A Road Less Travelled
by blucougar57
Summary: Two years after his dramatic experiences with the Centre, Bobby Goren decides to take affirmative action and strike at the heart of the organization that continues to haunt his nightmares. Sequel to "The Long Road Home".
1. Prologue

_A/N: For a long time, I promised a sequel to "The Long Road Home" and, while I had ideas swirling in my head, nothing ever came to fruition. Well, it's apparently amazing what necessity and desperation can do, because here we are. I present the long time in the making sequel of "The Long Road Home". I just hope it lives up to both expectations, and the standard of its prequel._

_I am writing this for August Camp NaNo, so while this chapter is short, it is intended as a taste of what's to come. Once I start posting, there should be fairly regular updates. As a matter of course, you probably ought to read "The Long Road Home" before reading this, if you haven't already done so. Otherwise, there may be some things that simply don't make sense._

_This is a cross-over work between Law & Order: Criminal Intent and The Pretender. Bobby and Alex, and Mike and Carolyn are in established relationships. I don't normally ship these characters, but it just happened that way in the previous story. This is set more or less immediately after the season 6 episode "End Game". _

* * *

_Prologue_

There is a place in the small, coastal town of Blue Cove, Delaware, that cannot be found on any map. It is a place of mystery and misery. Rumours abound about it, but few know what really goes on inside its walls. Those who do know the cost of loose lips and they value their own lives too much to risk talking. It's called the Centre – an innocuous name for a place that is anything but innocuous, and the lives that have been destroyed by it are far too numerous to count.

Years ago, never mind how many, there was something that could be found within the walls of the Centre that no reasonable person would ever have expected. Children lived there, brought there by various means – some legitimate, but mostly not. There were three children in particular, whose existences inside the Centre collided regularly, but who all came from very different backgrounds.

Firstly, there was the young Miss Parker, whose father was the Director of the Centre, and whose mother... Well, we'll come to that shortly. Miss Parker spent most of her waking hours in the Centre but, unlike most others, she was free to come and go as she liked. She was not, by any means, a prisoner.

Secondly, there was Jarod. Stolen from his family and brought to the Centre as a young child, Jarod was placed in the newly created Pretender program. An identified genius even at that early age, Jarod was stripped of his own identity and made to become a person who could literally become anyone, and do anything.

For years, Jarod did the Centre's bidding at the behest of his trainer and handler, Sydney. He endured the sort of physical, emotional and psychological torments that no one should ever have to endure, believing that what he did made people's lives better. That all came crashing down on the day that he found out that the knowledge of one small but significant flaw in a building he had designed had been sold to a terrorist group for profit.

Shortly after that, Jarod escaped. He would live on the run for the next five or six years, searching for the family that he had been told was dead, and working to put a stop to the evil that was the Centre.

The third child was Bobby. Sold to the Centre by his father after his mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia and institutionalised, Bobby endured an existence that was made bearable only through the friendship offered to him by Jarod and Miss Parker. He was constantly caught between two trainers – the ambiguous Sydney and the ambitious and blatantly sadistic Raines. Bobby suffered inside the Centre for five years before he was secreted out by Miss Parker's mother, Catherine, and hidden away for six months before finally being returned to his family.

The trauma of his existence in the Centre was deeply buried inside his mind, but never really forgotten. Bobby grew up, and eventually settled into a successful career with the New York Police Department, and there he remained until the day that Jarod came back into his life, and his world was turned upside down once more.

The Centre wanted him back, and would do anything to achieve that, Jarod had warned. It was decided that Bobby should go into hiding. It was not an option that anyone liked, but Jarod insisted that there was no safety in continuing as though nothing was wrong. The Centre would claim him back eventually if he stayed in the open. Bobby conceded, but the concession came too late. Thanks to a betrayal from within One Police Plaza itself, Bobby Goren was retaken by Centre operatives Miss Parker and Mr Lyle.

He spent the next nine months in his own personal hell, before being rescued in an operation that was nearly six months in the planning.

The Centre searched for their Pretender, and twice almost succeeded in taking him back. The first time, Bobby fought for his own freedom. The second time, his colleagues fought for him. The second time, Lyle and Raines died trying to reclaim their Pretender.

Bobby was free. The Centre base in Blue Cove was no more, destroyed comprehensively in the immediate aftermath of Bobby's dramatic rescue, and two of its worst protagonists were dead. Finally, Bobby was able to move on, and move on he did.

Now, though, he would find himself facing new challenges – a new captain; his mother terminally ill; criminal elements that challenged his ability to stay detached. Through it all, though, he reassured himself with the knowledge that the Centre was no more.

It was a false reassurance. Like so many institutions that fester with evil, the Centre was far more than just a building. That building may have been destroyed, but those responsible for it were not gone, and their ambitions were as strong as ever. In the end, it was only ever going to be a matter of time before Bobby's world and that of the Centre collided once more.

The question was, when it did happen, would Bobby be ready for it?

* * *

_to be continued..._


	2. An Old Enemy Reformed

Miss Parker's footsteps echoed on the tiled floor as she walked along at her usual brisk pace. The noise was loud, too loud for her liking. There was a time when she would have relished the sound as she walked, enjoying the attention that it drew. There was a time when the attention the sound garnered would have had most people cringing in fear.

Now, she preferred subtle. Subtle afforded her the ability to slip through unnoticed. Subtle was what kept her alive.

She glanced around with a grimace of distaste as she walked along a long corridor towards her destination. This place was not made for subtle. This garish monument to a past that should have stayed dead and buried... And yet, she was not surprised that it had been rebuilt. Too many people with far too much power had too much invested in the continuation of the nightmare that was known as The Centre. What did surprise her was that they'd had the nerve to rebuild the nerve centre of the organisation on its original location, in Blue Cove.

Like a ghost, the new building had appeared almost out of nowhere – or at least, that was what the locals of Blue Cove whispered, so the gossip went. The truth was that it had been under construction over the course of the last six months, and in planning for a good eighteen months prior to that.

What really surprised her, above and beyond all else, was that Jarod had not, at any point in time, tried to put a stop to the project. Indeed, in the approximate two years since the events that had resulted in the near crippling of the Centre, and the deaths of her crazy uncle and even crazier brother, she'd not heard so much as a whisper from Jarod. She wondered whether maybe he thought the Centre was finally done and dusted, and was no longer a threat to anyone, but dismissed that idea quickly enough. It was inconceivable that Jarod, of all people, would ever cease to be on-guard against any possible resurrection of the place that most likely still caused him nightmares.

Still, he'd not been heard of nor seen since the dramatic rescue of Bobby Goren from the Centre's clutches, that much was certain. To say that he'd dropped off the radar was an understatement of the biggest kind imaginable. In fact, his absence was so noticeable that the question was starting to be asked whether he was, perhaps, dead.

She shook her head to herself, and a small, tight smile quirked her lips.

Jarod wasn't dead. She was sure of that, and she knew Sydney believed otherwise as well, even though he hadn't heard from his pet project either. The smile faded from her lips as quickly as it had appeared. Despite Jarod's ongoing battle against the Centre over the years, he had always remained close to Sydney. That had changed when the Centre set its sights once more on Bobby.

To start with, she knew that Jarod had expected Sydney to do what he could to protect Bobby. Though she hadn't really seen the fall-out with her own eyes, she guessed it must have been a shock to Jarod to learn just how little regard Sydney had really had for Bobby – to the point where Sydney himself had nearly cost Bobby his life.

She knew she would never forget that day that she had walked in to discover Sydney had locked Bobby inside the focus chamber, despite him having just come from days of abuse at the hands of Raines. She'd opened the chamber to find Bobby in a dead man's float, and it had only been sheer luck that she'd been able to revive him. Miss Parker knew that Bobby must have told that story to Jarod, and probably shown him the sim disc of the incident, because she'd been within hearing distance when Sydney had taken an extremely hostile call from Jarod.

Standing in the doorway of Sydney's office, she had been able to hear Jarod's angry voice almost as clearly as thought Jarod had been right there in room.

_"..._ _I trusted you to do everything you could to protect Bobby, and instead, you nearly killed him!"_

She'd seen Jarod angry before, but she could hear the sheer rage in the other man's voice, and it had sent a chill down her spine. Sydney had tried to feign nonchalance, especially after confessing that Jarod had warned him off ever trying to contact Bobby again. She knew he'd been shaken, though. For so long, Sydney had coasted along, basking in the borderline hero worship that Jarod had a tendency to heap on him, despite Jarod's own acknowledgement that Sydney had had a hand in his imprisonment. All of a sudden, though, along came Bobby Goren, who had no delusions about Sydney's participation in what had happened to him – either when he was a child, or when he was an adult. It was Bobby who had finally, truly opened Jarod's eyes to the fact that Sydney, whilst caring for his charges in his own way, was still in many ways as much of a monster as Raines was.

That, Miss Parker, thought, was what had really shaken Sydney; that Jarod had lost faith in him and, by all accounts, had severed all contact completely.

She had to concede, she was sorry about that. She missed the regular conversations and arguments that she'd had with Jarod. He'd been more of a brother to her than Lyle had ever been, gently guiding her over the years to learning some hard truths about the Centre, and the people she worked with and for. She hoped that, sooner or later, Jarod might relent and contact her again, especially now that he was no longer actively sought after by the Centre.

Miss Parker rounded the corner at the end of that seemingly endlessly long corridor, and thoughts of Jarod and Bobby faded from her mind as she approached the door of the new office that her father now occupied. In the wake of Raines' death at the hands of the New York police, Mr Parker had been reinstated as Director, and had spent most of the time that followed that shocking event overseeing the rebuilding of the Blue Cove headquarters.

If nothing else, it had been something for him to focus on, and kept him from driving her and everyone else up the proverbial wall.

Resisting a powerful urge to roll her eyes, Miss Parker pushed the door open and walked into the spacious outer office where some overly pretty thing whose name escaped her sat behind a too-fancy desk in a too-lavish chair. Striding over to the desk, Miss Parker deliberately stood over the young woman, watching with guiltless pleasure as she squirmed uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, Miss Parker, but he's in the middle of a phone conference, and he's asked not to be disturbed..."

"Save it," Miss Parker snapped, and barely hid a smirk when the girl flinched. "He paged me himself and asked me to come straight away. You can announce me or not, I don't give a damn. Either way, I am going in there, and I'm going now."

Without waiting for an answer, Miss Parker turned and walked purposefully to the inner doors, and pushed them open with a flourish.

* * *

Seated behind a lush-looking desk that was far fancier than it needed to be, Mr Parker was, indeed, on the phone. However, he waved her forward as soon as he saw her, and the wink he gave her reassured her that there couldn't be anything too wrong. At least, she fervently hoped that was the case.

Truth be told, she was not happy about being back within these walls. For approximately two years, she'd been away from the clawing reach of the Centre, living a relatively normal life, and it had been an amazing experience. Angelo, the savant whose personality Raines had effectively destroyed, had stayed with her, in her care – a role that she had never expected to find herself in but found herself cherishing. Though Sydney had not been able to replicate the formula to give Angelo back his life and potential independence, he had nonetheless been able to provide a regime of drugs that helped the man-child's maturity to improve, and to help him regain a small degree of independence and quality of life.

The recall by the Centre had been a harsh blow and, whilst shaking the foundation of her own world considerably, it had set Angelo back severely. As a consequence, she'd had no qualms in telling The Powers That Be that Angelo was not going back. She'd been surprised, relieved, and perhaps more than a little suspicious when the hierarchy had conceded without argument.

It was partially why she was here in her father's office now, and back in the Centre in general. While she reluctantly acknowledged that her life would never been truly independent of the Centre, she also wanted to know what the hell was going on. Not that her father was necessarily the best person to ask, of course. She'd long since accepted that he was as much prone to keeping deadly secrets as anyone in the place, some of which had decidedly come back to bite him on the ass.

Miss Parker came out of the whirl of her thoughts as her father hung up his phone and sat back in his chair to look at her with a proud smile.

"Look at you, angel. You get more beautiful every time I see you."

"Give it a rest, Daddy," she sighed. Mr Parker raised his eyebrows at her weary dismissal of the compliment.

"What's the matter?"

"You mean, aside from being back in this hellhole?"

The faintest hints of disapproval appeared on his face, just as she'd known it would.

"I hardly think that's appropriate, Angel. This place is our bread and butter. It's in our blood..."

"Spills our blood, more like it," she retorted. "Save the sentimentality, Daddy. This place should never have been rebuilt. Now, what did you want?"

He sighed audibly, and the pleasant look on his face vanished.

"Fine. It's about the Pretender program."

Miss Parker felt icy chills race down her spine as her mind leapt to the first, most logical conclusion.

"I am not bringing Angelo back to the Centre. I don't care what they threaten, I will not do that."

"Relax, pumpkin," he reassured her. "They don't want Angelo anymore. They recognize that he's damaged beyond recovery because of Raines' experiments, and that bringing him back wouldn't benefit the Centre at all."

"They... As in, the Triumvirate?" Miss Parker wondered. Parker Senior smiled indulgently, like a father might with a simple child.

"Well, of course. They still run the organization as a whole. Despite what Jarod did after he managed to take Bobby from us, the Centre was never destroyed. Not even close to it. The building they destroyed was, after all, just a building. The Centre is a lot more than just bricks and mortar."

"Right," she muttered. "It's blood and flesh as well."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, his expression brightening at what he perceived to be her understanding. "People have put their blood, sweat and tears into this place, to make it what it is."

Miss Parker grimaced.

"That wasn't exactly what I meant, she muttered under her breath. If her father heard the snark, he gave no indication of it, and went on with an enthusiasm that turned her stomach.

"The first thing I need you to do is to track down Sydney. I want him to oversee the project. We don't want to make the same mistakes as in the past."

Miss Parker spoke again, and this time she made no effort to hide how she felt.

"No, you're making all new ones."

"Angel..."

"No, Daddy. Listen to me! Restarting the Pretender project is a bad idea! So far we've skated through under the radar with the rebuilding of this place. Jarod has stayed right away from us. But what do you think he'll do if he gets wind that we're starting that particular project again? I'll tell you what he'll do. He will shut us down. An you know something? I don't think I'd be able to blame him."

"Jarod hasn't been seen or heard from in over two years," Parker growled, his good humour rapidly deteriorating. "He stopped siphoning money from us two years ago. For all we know, he could be dead. He is not a concern for us anymore."

Miss Parker's breath quickened a little in her throat.

"You're not planning to go after Bobby Goren again, are you? Daddy, please tell me that's not what you're planning..."

"No, it's not," he promised sincerely, and she didn't even try to hide the sigh of relief that escaped her lips. Parker continued speaking ruefully. "No, I think it's safe to say we all learnt a valuable lesson there. The Triumvirate decided it wasn't worth risking any other operatives to bring Bobby back to the Centre, and I happen to agree with them. We'll be leaving him alone."

"Then, who...?" Miss Parker wondered in confusion. Parker shrugged.

"Orphans, children in care. Kids without families who won't be missed by anyone."

It chilled Miss Parker all over again that her father chose that turn of phrase, rather than saying kids who otherwise wouldn't have much of a chance to better their lives. But then, the Centre had never been about bettering lives - only lining pockets. She kept the thought to herself, but couldn't keep from traitorously wondering how she might be able to put a stop to it. The one thing she never wanted to see again was children being tormented in the way that Jarod, Angelo, Bobby... and even Kyle had been. Even orphans who had no family to miss them.

"I don't know where Sydney is," she said, after taking a moment to regain her composure. Right then, she had no comeback for her father's proposal, and knew the best course was to just play along, at least for the time being.

"We do," Parker said. "We've been keeping an eye on him. I want you to go and get him, and bring him back, because you're probably the one person he trusts the most. I want to do things right this time, Angel. The Pretender program was our most successful and most lucrative program. It can be again, if we go about it the right way, but we need Sydney back on board. Will you bring him in?"

She really did not like the way he said 'bring him in'.

"And if he doesn't want to come?"

Mr Parker smiled, then, and it was all too reminiscent of the look he used to get on his face when he got a particularly unsavoury idea.

"He'll come back. Sydney knows that you don't walk away from the Centre. Not permanently."

* * *

Leaving her father's office a short while later, Miss Parker found herself experiencing a powerful sensation of déjà vu. She couldn't help but recall when Raines had pushed for Bobby to be reacquired, and the events that had snowballed and eventually resulted in the destruction of the Blue Cove base, and the deaths of Brigitte, Lyle and Raines.

The latter of those consequences was nothing that bothered Miss Parker too greatly. She had always loathed Raines, especially after coming to believe he had killed her beloved mother. She'd despised Lyle, even more so after learning that he was her brother. As for Brigitte... Well, the less said about her, the better.

She wondered just how Bobby might react to finding out that not only was the Centre still in operation, that it was seeking to restart its heinous Pretender program. Somehow, she doubted he would be very happy about it, but whether he would be inclined to take action to stop it? That was something that Miss Parker simply couldn't second-guess. Now, if Jarod got wind of it, she had no doubt that he would want to put a stop to it. The trick was getting a message to him.

She paused in the doorway of her own new office - not as resplendent as her father's, but more than respectable nonetheless. It occurred to her right then that she was starting to look at real, viable ways to scuttle the Centre's new program, and it wasn't giving her anxiety attacks.

A grimace touched her lips. Give it time...

She sat at her desk, a frown etched onto her features. It bothered her, what her father had said about only taking children who were only orphans. If she wasn't mistaken, she remembered reading in an old file that Jarod had unearthed that they had tried that when the Pretender first started. There had been a couple of especially smart children found, but most were either average or so adept at hiding their true intelligence that the Centre ad eventually given up and instead started trolling through the masses of reports of school children from around the country.

Some children had been acquired in the same way that Bobby had been e courtesy of a parent too lost in their own personal issues and unable to cope with the demands of a child; and easily manipulated into believing that they were doing what was best for the child. In those instances, it had simply been a matter of working out how much money made the parting more bearable for the child.

Then, there were parents like Jarod's, who had been horrified at the prospect of surrendering their child to the Centre, and had tried escaping to keep their little boy safe.

Miss Parker shut her eyes against the threat of another blistering headache. That was the point when the Centre had turned to means less savoury to acquire their targets.

There was video footage that she had finally seen as an adult, of Jarod's arrival at the Centre. He had been delivered with a hood over his head, like a proverbial hostage. The difference was that Jarod was never meant to see his family ever again. He was supposed to have remained in the Centre until he died.

Miss Parker often wondered what the trigger had been that had caused Jarod to run. If Sydney knew, he'd never divulged the knowledge to anyone. Sometimes, she wondered whether Sydney had had any part in it. She knew from her initial investigations that Jarod had been increasingly distressed in the month leading up to his escape, and she just wondered whether Sydney had been slyly poking and prodding at Jarod, to see how far he could be provoked before he snapped.

She wondered whether Sydney regretted it once it became clear that Jarod would not be easily recaptured.

Movement in the corner of her eye momentarily startled her, and she might have drawn her gun if she didn't already know who it was.

"Broots. What the hell do you want?"

"The truth," he said quietly, and the tension and anger in his voice gave her pause. Broots - long-time and loyal Centre employee - had easily been enticed back to work after two years of struggling from one short term job to the next. He'd changed, though. He was still as quiet as ever, but the timidity that had once so irritated her was gone.

"The truth about what?" she asked, now suddenly weary of word games. After all, truth inside the Centre was a highly subjective thing.

"Is it true that they're planning to go after Bobby again? That they want to restart the Pretender program?"

She looked at him squarely, taking in the way that he returned her stare without flinching. A little more hair on top, and he might almost have been attractive.

"No, they aren't planning to go after Bobby. Yes, they want to restart the Pretender program." She paused briefly, then added in a low voice, "Yes, we are going to try and stop it from happening."

Broots' eyes widened in shock at the blunt statement but, to his credit he didn't argue or say anything inordinately stupid.

"How?" he asked softly, with just a hint of incredulity.

Miss Parker looked around speculatively. She knew for a fact that the building's security cameras were working, but they had yet to get the audio feed sorted out. It was safe to talk for now, as long as they faced away from the cameras.

"We need to find Sydney, and we need to find Jarod."

Broots let out his breath in a rush.

"Well, I have no idea where Jarod is, but Sydney is in New York. He's been there for four months now."

Miss Parker's eyebrows shot up. The implications of that were not lost on her for a second.

"New York?"

"Yeah," Broots confirmed. "And yes, he's been watching Bobby. I guess he just can't help himself."

"Silly son of a bitch," she muttered. "If Bobby sees him, he'll shoot him."

"I don't think he'll let himself be seen," Broots murmured. "At least, I hope he won't. He's just curious, Miss Parker."

"Well, we all know what curiosity did to the cat," she retorted. "Where in New York is he?"

"I'll get you the address. You've been told to bring him back, haven't you?"

She nodded.

"I have. They want him to run the new program. I'm sorry to say that he might just agree to it, too."

"Give him a little credit, Miss Parker. After what happened with Bobby, I'm not so sure that he'd been willing to let them get away with it again."

"We can't be sure of that, Broots. He might, knowing that Raines isn't around any longer to treat the kids badly. You know what Sydney is like. It's way too easy for him to develop a barrier around his conscience and convince himself that it's all for the greater good. That, and his scientific curiosity will always win out. He can't help himself."

"So what are you going to do? If we can't contact Jarod..."

"I'm sure I can get word to Jarod," Miss Parker murmured. "I just don't know how long it might take for it to reach him, and then for him to respond. Too long, maybe. But I'm betting there's someone who could get a message to Jarod straight away."

"Bobby?" Broots asked.

"Right. Bobby. Broots, I need you to keep an eye on things here. I'm going to New York."

* * *

_to be continued..._


	3. Drunken Discussions

A/N: This is unbeta'd - I'm simply posting it as I write it, so I apologise for any typos that I've missed.

* * *

It really and truly had been a bitch of a year. That was the thought that kept spiralling through Bobby Goren's mind as he sat slumped on the floor of his apartment, nursing a double shot of whiskey. His mother's funeral had been that morning, and while respectably attended, a noticeable absentee had been his brother, Frank.

Bobby was both hurt and confused, and those were two emotions that he'd had more than his fair share of over the last twelve months. He'd thought that he and Frank had gotten better in their admittedly rocky relationship. For his brother to go missing in action right when Bobby needed the emotional support the most was deeply hurtful.

To top it off, he was fairly confident that the squad's new captain, Danny Ross, thought he was a veritable nut job.

Bobby shut his eyes and took a long swallow of whiskey, relishing the burn in his throat. It did nothing, though, to stop the roll of memories through his tired mind. Declan and Jo Gage... Alex's abduction... His mother and brother... and worst of all in so many ways, was the fateful encounters with the killer, Mark Ford Brady.

Strangely, perhaps, it wasn't the revelation that Brady might be his father that had sent him into a tailspin. Oh, he was upset – make no mistake about that. In fact, he was gutted by the possibility, but it was something he could deal with. It was something he _would_ deal with, given enough time.

No, what had thrown him was the potential connection with the Centre that Brady's insinuations had sparked. It was the sickening realisation that Raines had quite possibly known about the question mark over his parentage and, assuming the evil son of a bitch had known, then it begged the question all over again of what Raines had had planned for him.

It was a question that had never really been answered. Even the nine months that he had been trapped inside the Centre, Bobby had never found out exactly what Raines had intended to do with him. With the advent of Brady's revelation, though, Bobby was starting to suspect, and part of the answer lay with the tragic story of Jarod's brother, Kyle.

Bobby knew the truth now about Kyle. After a long, quiet talk with Jarod one night over a carefully secured phone line, Bobby had learnt the whole truth about what Raines had done to the boy, and how he'd cultivated a psychopath out of him. That knowledge helped Bobby to understand the willingness behind Kyle's willingness to sexually assault him on Raines' order when they were just children. He knew now that even at that early stage, Raines had been working hard at manipulating Kyle, and twisting his mind beyond repair.

The knowledge did nothing to erase Bobby's nightmares, but it did help him to at least put the incident in perspective, and to put the blame firmly where it belonged – with Raines. What it also did was help Bobby to realise or, at the very least, strongly suspect that what Raines had done to Kyle was exactly what he'd wanted to do to _him_. The thought that really terrified Bobby was in knowing that if Brady was right, then genetics could easily have seen Raines' evil vision become reality.

And right there, he had two very legitimate reasons never to tell Ross the truth about himself, and his past. He honestly couldn't say which would be worse; not being believed, or being believed. Either way, he figured that he'd be able to kiss his career goodbye. Ross already thought he was a whack job, as it was. Bobby had no intention of putting himself in that situation. With a new Chief of Detectives and a new Police Commissioner having recently taken over, any back-up from the brass that he had previously had was now gone.

One saving grace had been that there had been few changes to the squad since his return to work nearly two years ago after the events that had so nearly destroyed him. With the exception of just three detectives, his colleagues all knew the truth, and had so often closed ranks around him to protect him from any flak he might otherwise have received for his admittedly unnerving interrogation and investigative tactics. It was something that continued to amuse him, knowing that Ross was still trying to work out the dynamics of the squad, and why so many mainstream detectives were so protective of 'that oddball Bobby Goren'.

Alex and Mike had both wanted him to tell Ross the truth. They'd encouraged him to be up-front and honest with the new captain even before Ross's appointment was announced to the squad, but it was something he just wasn't ready to do. Deakins had been a different prospect altogether to Ross. For starters, he already had Bobby's trust and respect. Currently, Bobby held a grudging respect for Ross, as far as any police officer would respect his or her superiors, but Bobby simply didn't trust Ross yet. The man had been judgemental of him right from the start, coming into the squad with pre-conceived opinions that had no doubt been cultivated by others, instead of giving Bobby a chance to show his worth before making assumptions. Bobby simply couldn't bring himself to trust Ross not to jump to conclusions if he were to be told about the Centre.

And so Ross had been kept in the dark at Bobby behest, and the rest of the squad had followed suit. Whilst three of the new additions had not noticed anything amiss, Mike's new partner, Megan Wheeler, had. The revelation that Ross was her rabbi meant that they told her nothing as well, which had placed a slight strain on Mike's working relationship with her. She was smart and observant, and had noticed the closeness of her partner with Bobby and Alex. They offered her no explanations, though, and to her credit she never demanded one. Ultimately, though, they knew her loyalty lay with Ross, and that kept her out of the inner circle.

A shadow fell across him, and he looked up blearily to see a familiar figure standing over the top of him.

"Drink?" he offered. Mike Logan shook his head.

"No, thanks. It's too early, even for me."

Bobby frowned.

"Really? What time is it?"

"Time for you to stop drinking," Mike said, reaching for the glass and bottle. Bobby tried, unsuccessfully, to hold them out of Mike's reach.

"I'm on leave. I can drink if I want."

"Stop being an infant," Mike retorted. He set both glass and bottle on the nearby table, and then hauled Bobby to his feet. "C'mon, Bobby. Walk. I'm not carrying you."

"Where to?" Bobby asked suspiciously.

"Just to the couch. Then you can sit down, lie down, whatever you want. But you can't stay on the floor there."

"Can I have my whiskey back?"

Mike paused, looking critically at Bobby.

"Do you really want it, Bobby? Be honest."

Bobby deflated, and his quick capitulation answered better than any words.

"No. Guess not. Just... hurts."

"I know, pal," Mike murmured as he gently aided Bobby onto the couch. "I know it hurts."

Seated safely on the couch, Bobby looked around in puzzlement.

"Where's Alex?"

"Still at work," Mike answered as he flopped into the armchair opposite the couch. "Someone had to run interference with Ross. He likes that I'm an old school cop, but there's something about her, that he seems to just automatically trust her."

Bobby's brow furrowed, and Mike could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

"He better not be makings moves on her."

Mike rolled his eyes. Alex often said that alcohol caused odd reactions in Bobby, and she was right. A sober Bobby Goren would not for one second think that their captain was hitting on his partner.

"Bobby, you need coffee, and a lot of it. No, Ross is not making moves on her. She's just doing what she's done all year, smoothing things over after you and Ross go butting heads. Damn it, pal, I wish you'd just give in and tell him. You might find he'll be more understanding than you think."

"No," Bobby said stubbornly. "He thinks I'm crazy now."

"Because he doesn't understand!" Mike argued. "He's not an idiot, Bobby. His IQ isn't far below yours! He knows you're hiding things from him, and it's only because of Alex that he's been willing to cut you so much slack!"

Bobby stared at Mike through reddened eyes, and all of a sudden, Mike got the very strong feeling that Bobby was nowhere near as drunk as he had appeared to be when Mike found him.

"You know it's not a simple thing for me to just talk about it at the drop of a hat, because someone expects me to. I can't do that, even with people I trust, like you and Alex... and even George. How the hell do you think I'm going to just start chatting to Ross about any of it? It doesn't work like that, Mike. I can't just switch it on at whim. I need to be able to work up to talking about it... about any of it."

"I'm sorry," Mike murmured sincerely. "I know how hard it is. I just thought... Damn it. Look, don't hold being an idiot against me, all right?"

A tired, slightly bitter smile touched Bobby's lips.

"I'd be a hypocrite if I did, Mike."

Mike snorted.

"You, my friend, could never be accused of being an idiot."

"Yeah, well, this last twelve months I think I could probably give you a run for your money. I've done some pretty idiotic things."

"Like telling Ross that you don't care if he fires you?" Mike retorted. "Yeah, I'll go along with that being pretty idiotic."

Bobby shut his eyes.

"Alex nearly flayed me alive when she caught up with me. I hadn't seen her so angry for... Actually, I don't think I'd ever seen her so angry."

"Mm," Mike murmured. Though he said nothing, his mind swept back approximately three years ago, to the nine months during which Bobby had been a prisoner of the Centre. There had been times during those months when Alex had swung wildly between severe depression and pure rage. Everyone had quickly learnt to give her a very wide berth when she'd been at the rage end of the spectrum.

"What are you thinking?" Bobby wondered. Mike regarded him soberly.

"You know why she was so pissed at you, Bobby?"

Bobby shrugged.

"I try to avoid introspection, when I can avoid it."

Mike shook his head, bemused.

"Pal, she was so angry with you because you scared her. She lost you once to the Centre, and she was terrified she was going to lose you all over again. She was angry because she could see you throwing away everything that you fought so fucking hard to get back. And you know something? I was pretty damned mad at you for it, too."

Silence met Mike's words, but Mike didn't push for a response. He'd learnt a long time ago that patience was the key to dealing with Bobby. Pushing him achieved nothing. When Bobby did finally speak again, it was in a tone filled with regret and guilt.

"I don't know why I said that to Ross that day. I mean, I know I was feeling stressed... about Mom, and Frank, and everything... but it was a stupid thing to say. I didn't mean it, not really."

"Lucky for you, Ross understood," Mike muttered. "He was pretty pissed off at you, but he understood. At least, as far as he knew about your mom. But damn, Bobby, has it really been that bad, changing over from Deakins to Ross? The guy really isn't that bad, Bobby, and he sure as hell backed you all the way when Alex went missing."

Bobby's breath caught in his throat at the unwanted reminder, but Mike didn't apologise for it. In his opinion, Ross was every bit as good a captain as Deakins, particular for his hands-on approach to cases. He knew Bobby considered it to be unwanted interference, but Mike had found Ross's approach refreshing. He really wanted Bobby to let go of his prejudices, and give Ross a chance and, in his opinion, the best way to do that would be to come clean and tell the captain about the Centre and about Bobby's Pretender abilities.

Mike knew Bobby felt no shame any longer about being a Pretender. Indeed, he'd learnt to incorporate those unique skills into his role as Major Case detective, very much to the detriment of the New York's criminal element. His interrogations had turned into a real work of art, and more often than not he played to an audience of not only the captain and the DA, but also to his fellow detectives who eagerly drank in his methods in the hope of learning to emulate them. So far, none had come close.

It raised plenty of questions, though. Almost twelve months ago, when Bobby had turned his skills on Declan Gage in order to determine if he was responsible for Alex's abduction, Gage had realised immediately that he was employing techniques that Gage had never taught him, and had commented on it with an interest that Bobby had deliberately ignored. Later, Mike had overheard Ross quizzing Bobby about it, only to be effectively told by Bobby to mind his own business. Mike knew that Ross would have had every right to take Bobby to task over that, but the captain had chalked it up to stress over his missing partner, and let it slide.

The new captain had watched Bobby closely since then and, with no other grounds on which to form his opinions, Mike guessed that he'd gradually come to the conclusion that Bobby was… well, for want of a better phrase, _whacked_.

"He doesn't understand," Mike reiterated, although he sounded like he knew he was wasting his breath trying to convince his friend. "He doesn't understand how or why you can do what you do, and he needs to."

"Mike, I can't tell him."

"Well, do you think you could cope with me or Alex telling him?"

Bobby faltered at the offer. Truth be told, it was something he'd contemplated more than once – having Mike and/or Alex tell Ross about him and the Centre, and each time he'd baulked. Now, though, he wondered whether it might be the only way to salvage what appeared to be a steadily deteriorating career.

"Okay."

He couldn't believe he was saying it and, by the looks of it, Mike couldn't believe he was saying it, either. Slowly, Mike leaned forward.

"Say again?"

Bobby sighed.

"I said, okay. You can tell him. But you might want to consider taking George Huang with you when you do. Alex can be there too, if she's willing. I suppose Ross will be more likely to believe it if you have someone backing you up. Otherwise, he might think you're as crazy as he thinks I am."

Mike couldn't hide the relief he felt at Bobby's acquiescence, and he didn't even try.

"He doesn't think you're crazy, Bobby. I'm telling you, he just doesn't understand. That doesn't automatically translate to an assumption that you're crazy."

"I know that, Mike. But why do you think I _don't_ want to tell him the truth?"

When Mike looked blankly at him, Bobby explained wearily.

"I'm scared that if he finds out about the Centre, and about everything that happened to me there as a child and as an adult, then he really will think I'm crazy. Because for anyone to survive what I went through, even just over those nine months… Well, they'd have to be a little bit crazy, wouldn't they? Seriously, Mike, how could anyone get through that and still be one hundred per cent sane?"

Mike shrugged.

"I don't know. Shit happens. We deal with it."

Bobby quirked a hint of a smile at Mike's no-frills approach.

"That simple?"

"I don't see why it can't be. Seriously, Bobby, think about it. We all deal with some serious crap in our job. We see the worse there is to see of humanity on a daily basis. Sometimes, we end up targets ourselves. I know it's still a sore spot, but Alex is a case in point. She was missing twelve hours, and endured a night of listening to someone else being tortured and eventually killed. Anyone could go mad from that, but she didn't. Yes, I admit that we were worried that your sanity was hanging by a thread for a while after we got you out of the Centre, but you came good."

"I have nightmares nearly every night, Mike."

"So? Aside from being annoying as hell, that doesn't mean you're ready for a room at Bellevue. What does Huang have to say about it?"

A sigh escaped Bobby's lips.

"He said the nightmares are a way of not burying what happened to me. He thinks they're healthy. I beg to differ. I need a full night's sleep, Mike. Preferably not drug-induced."

"Have you tried herbal remedies?" Mike wondered, and then grimaced. "I can't believe I just said that."

Bobby couldn't help it. He laughed out loud.

"Next thing I know, you'll be suggesting I visit a Voodoo priestess."

The grimace turned into a scowl, but there was no real anger behind it.

"You're hilarious, you know that?"

"Sorry," Bobby offered, though he couldn't get the grin off his face.

"I swear to God," Mike grumbled, though he was quietly relieved to have gotten his friend to laugh, "if you mention poison ivy, I might just..."

Bobby snorted derisively.

"You can't event finish that sentence."

Mike rolled his eyes.

"Laugh it up. Anyway, about Ross..."

The laughter faded quickly from Bobby's face.

"I meant what I said. Go ahead and tell him, but be prepared that he might not believe you."

"Bobby... Do we have your permission to show him a sim disc?"

That was a particularly sensitive point with Bobby. Whilst he had made a conscious decision to keep the sim discs, nor had he been able to bring himself to watch more than just a select few. On those few occasions when he had watched them, they usually ended up making him violently ill. It was always a struggle for him to know that others had witnessed the horror that was on many of those discs.

"If you think you need to," Bobby conceded finally. In for a penny, he supposed tiredly. If they were going to clue Ross in to the whole story, then he might as well see everything.

"I'm not going to say you shouldn't be embarrassed by it," Mike said, "even though you really shouldn't. I know better than that."

Bobby grunted incoherently, and Mike sighed. He could see immediately that Bobby was rapidly slipping into a non-communicative phase. When he got into that state, it was usually only Alex who could pull him out of it.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," Mike said quietly, not entirely sure if Bobby was even still listening to him. "I know today was rough for you. I probably shouldn't have brought this to you today, but the sooner we can talk to Ross, the better."

Slowly, Bobby lifted his gaze back up to Mike, and the other detective flinched at the pain he saw there in his friend's eyes.

"I think I know now what Raines wanted with me."

That was unexpected. Mike blinked owlishly, not quite sure how to respond. He knew it had been one of the few issues that had remained unresolved, but Bobby had never shown any inclination towards knowing the purpose behind Raines' obsession with him. For him to suddenly blurt it out now, Mike had to wonder.

"So... are you planning on sharing your insight?" Mike pressed lightly.

"I think… I think he wanted to turn me into a psychopath."

It was with some effort that Mike didn't simply burst out laughing. He could see easily enough how serious Bobby was, but the idea that Bobby could ever become a psychopath was ludicrous to him.

"You mean, like Hannibal Lecter? Dexter? Sweet Jesus, Bobby, that's ridiculous. I mean, ridiculous that Raines could ever have thought he could succeed. Okay, so your mom was ill, and not a whole lot was known about schizophrenia back when you were a kid, but even so…"

"It wasn't genetics from my mom's side that Raines was thinking of," Bobby interrupted. "It was genetics from my father's side."

"That _is_ ridiculous. Your dad was a drunk and a louse, but he wasn't crazy."

"Mike… Frank Goren Senior might not have been my father."

That ominous revelation gave Mike pause, and he peered quizzically at Bobby.

"Do I want to know who you think might be your father, then?"

Bobby was silent for a long while before finally answering grimly.

"Mark Ford Brady."

If Mike had had a drink at that moment, he was certain he would have choked on it. As it was, he forgot to breathe for precious seconds while he stared at Bobby, looking for any hint that what he'd just said was meant as a joke. Bobby never so much as cracked a hint of a grin, and Mike felt his stomach sink unpleasantly.

"Goddamn, you're not kidding, are you?"

"No," Bobby said dully. He looked around, spotted his whiskey on the bench a short distance away, but decided it was too far away to bother getting up for, even if he was fairly confident that Mike wouldn't try to stop him this time. "Brady hinted at it…It was why he wanted to make contact with me in the first place. When I asked Mom, she admitted to having an affair with him, and that she was with him around the time I would have been c… conceived. She admitted she was never sure who my father really was."

"Well, damn," Mike muttered. "And you think Raines knew? But how could he have known, Bobby?"

"He might not have known to start with," Bobby conceded. "But I'm willing to bet he would have found out quickly enough that Frank Senior wasn't my real father. He was a persistent son of a bitch. He would have found out the truth sooner or later… probably sooner. If Brady was my father, then that would have given the evil bastard all sorts of ideas of what he could do with me."

"Okay," Mike murmured. "Now I get why you were drinking."

"Does that mean I can have my whiskey back?"

Mike smiled faintly at the deliberately whining tone that Bobby put into his voice.

"Not a chance, pal. You do not want to be shit-faced when Alex gets here later on."

Bobby conceded swiftly to that argument. The last thing he wanted was to do anything to rile his beautiful partner.

"So, when are you going to talk to Ross?" Bobby queried, deciding that talking about the impending revelation that was soon going to be thrust upon their captain was less painful than anything at all to do with Raines.

"This afternoon," Mike answered quietly. "Provided you gave us permission, we figured we need to talk to him sooner rather than later. I hope he'll believe what we're going to tell him without needing to watch a sim disc, but we'll show him one if we have to."

"You keep saying 'we'," Bobby said, frowning. "Who is 'we'?"

"Me, Alex and Deakins. I wanted George to be there as well, but he said it'd violate doctor/patient confidentiality. He did say, though, that if you need him to back the story up to Ross, you only have to call him and give him the go-ahead. He said he'd tell Ross the basics, but only depending on what you're prepared to let Ross know about."

Yet again, Bobby fell abruptly quiet, and Mike happily gave him time to process the information.

"You, Alex and Deakins? Sounds like you're planning a lynch mob," Bobby remarked finally. Mike chuckled.

"Not quite. We just figured that if the four of us were there to back each other up, Ross might be less inclined to argue. Carolyn would have been there as well, except that she's on loan to the BAU team at the moment, and they're in Michigan, or somewhere like it."

Bobby nodded wordlessly. He knew he ought to ask how Carolyn was coping since being recalled by the FBI, but he just didn't have the energy. All of a sudden, everything that had happened recently seemed to just fold in on him, and right then all he wanted was to shut his eyes and go to sleep. He was just contemplating whether Mike might think that rude of him, when he felt his legs being manoeuvred up onto the sofa, and a crocheted blanket being draped over the top of him. When he opened his eyes blearily – in all honesty, he hadn't even noticed that they'd closed to begin with – Mike was standing beside him, and watching him with an understanding smile.

"You're exhausted, Bobby. Get some sleep, pal. Leave this to us, okay?"

Bobby drew in a long, deep breath. His mind was almost pleasantly muzzy as he found all unwanted thoughts to be slowly seeping from his head. He almost felt as though he might just be able to sleep without the horrendous nightmares that usually plagued him. There was just one more directive he felt he needed to communicate to Mike before he fell properly asleep.

"Mike... Tell Wheeler, too."

Mike was surprised, and made no attempt to hide it.

"Why? I thought we agreed she didn't need to know?"

Bobby sighed softly.

"Because Ross is her rabbi. But if we're telling Ross, we might as well tell her, too."

"You think that Ross will blab?" Mike asked in amusement. Bobby frowned.

"Don't be an idiot. If we tell Ross, there's no reason _not_ to tell her. Now, you want to get lost and let me sleep?"

Mike laughed softly again.

"Okay, pal. Sleep well, and hopefully you'll feel a little better tomorrow."

Bobby mumbled something incoherently that Mike had no hope of understanding. Smiling to himself the veteran detective made sure Bobby was well covered by the blanket before letting himself quietly out.

* * *

_to be continued..._


	4. Propositions

"How was he?" Alex asked as Mike arrived back at the bullpen twenty minutes later.

"On his way to getting plastered," Mike answered honestly. Alex's face fell at the news.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at that. I just wish I hadn't had to leave straight after his mother's funeral this morning."

Mike nodded sympathetically.

"Yeah, well, sadly murder waits for no man or woman, and we really did need your help with this one. Don't be too worried about Bobby, though. I said he was on his way to getting plastered. I never said he actually made it."

Alex frowned up at Mike. She was too concerned for her partner to be playing mind and word games with him.

"What are you talking about? Was he drunk, or wasn't he?"

"Tipsy, at the most. I got there before he was too far gone, and took the liberty of putting the whiskey out of reach. He'd just fallen asleep on the sofa when I left. Hopefully, he might actually get a few hours of sleep in, minus the nightmares. Alex, can you come into the task room with me? I need to tell you something."

"This isn't going to be something I'm going to like, is it?" she asked suspiciously, even as she followed him to said task room.

"Sorry, no. But you need to hear it all the same."

They stepped inside and as Mike shut the door, he caught a glimpse of Ross watching them from his office. The look of suspicion on his face could easily have matched Alex's, if for different reasons.

"Did Bobby tell you anything about the last time he met with Brady?" Mike asked. Alex stared at him piercingly, not entirely sure what to say. She trusted him – had trusted him implicitly since the Centre had first set its sights on Bobby approximately three years ago. However, what Bobby had told her about his final confrontation with Brady was intensely personal and she was loathed to breach his confidence.

"I'm guessing he did tell you about the... _connection_ that Brady believed existed between him and Bobby."

Alex's breath came out in a rush. Mike needed to say no more. She knew what he was hinting at, and the only way he could have known about it was if Bobby had told him.

"It isn't necessarily true," she said, perhaps a little more abruptly than Mike deserved.

"No," Mike agreed, "but Bobby said he managed to talk to his mom about it before she died, and that she confirmed that she'd been with Brady around the time that Bobby would have been conceived. He said she admitted to him that she'd never really been sure who his father really was."

"Goddamn it," Alex whispered. Mike uttered a short, ugly laugh.

"Yeah, that's what I said. The thing is, that isn't what had Bobby in knots... At least, not exactly. He thinks that Raines might have found out about the possibility of Brady being his father, and that he wanted to turn Bobby into some sort of psychopath."

"That would be laughable, if it wasn't Raines we're talking about," Alex said bitterly. "I wouldn't have put anything past that crazy bastard. But the thing is, even if Raines knew that Goren Senior wasn't Bobby's biological father, and even if he knew that Brady was Bobby's real father – which, by the way, we have no actual proof of without a DNA test."

Mike nodded in willing agreement, and Alex went on.

"Even if Raines had identified Brady as being Bobby's real father, how could he have known that Brady was a serial killer? He didn't even come under suspicion until about ten years after Bobby was born. I understand what Bobby was saying to you, but how could Raines have known?"

"Because he was a cunning, evil son of a bitch," Mike answered with a shrug. "I don't know. This is the Centre we're talking about, and I'm willing to bet that even way back then, they had plenty of resources to be able to find out things like that. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if we found out somewhere along the line that Brady was involved with the Centre, somehow. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised at all to find out that those bastards knew about it from the first time that Brady killed someone."

"Don't speculate like that, Mike," Alex said wearily. "It's pointless, and you know it. The bottom line is that we have suspicions that Raines might have known about Bobby's true parentage, and may or may not have been planning to try and manipulate that knowledge and, by extension, Bobby to his own ends."

"True or not," Mike said, "it's going to give Bobby nightmares. Maybe not immediately, but soon enough, it will give him nightmares. You know he won't be able to help thinking about it, and when he does, he'll think it to death."

Alex wanted to refute him, and knew that she couldn't. He was right. Once Bobby fixated on this latest revelation properly, it would inevitably cause him nightmares because he wouldn't be able to stop himself thinking about it.

"Let's worry about that later," she said finally. "I don't suppose you got a chance to ask him?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Mike answered with a sober expression as he recalled the brief and less than comfortable discussion with Bobby. "Can't say he was especially thrilled with the idea, but he accepted in the end that Ross really does need to know the truth. He gave us the okay to tell him."

"Thank god for that," Alex muttered. "And about damned time, too."

"I told him we were going to talk to Ross this afternoon," Mike said. "I called Deakins on the way over here, and he's going to meet us in Central Park. I don't think we'll have any trouble getting Ross out of here. Not when we tell him why we want to talk to him. Oh, and one other thing. Bobby said to tell Wheeler as well. He figured that the only reason we weren't telling her was because we were worried she'd feel obliged to tell Ross. If we're going to tell him now anyway, then there's no reason not to tell Wheeler as well."

"That does make sense," Alex mused. "Okay, then. Both of them, together. I'll handle Ross. You handle your partner."

* * *

Ross couldn't take his eyes off the door of the task room that Eames and Logan had disappeared into just minutes ago. He desperately wanted to know what they had to talk about that was apparently so confidential that they felt they needed to take it into another room, and had to consciously ignore the urge to go and interrupt. Whatever it was, there was clear tension between them, and it drove Ross nuts, not knowing what it was all about.

In the last twelve months, since he'd taken over from Jim Deakins as captain of the Major Case squad, Ross had struggled to get a grip on the squad dynamics. It was at least partially his own fault. He knew that and willingly admitted it – at least, to himself. He'd come in with pre-conceived ideas about certain members of the squad; specifically about Bobby Goren.

Ross was somewhat embarrassed to admit that he'd allowed the opinions of others to influence him where Goren was concerned and, consequently, he'd never really given the big detective a chance. Despite the man proving his worth multiple times over, Ross knew he'd continued to treat him almost like some sort of pariah, or freak, and in doing so he'd provoked Goren into reacting to his authority with growing hostility.

It was a bad start to what Ross had hoped would be a real career boost, and now he didn't know what to do to rectify it, and put things right. After twelve months, it seemed impossible that the mutual hostility between Goren and himself could be reversed, but he also knew that if something couldn't be done about it soon, then one of them was going to have to leave.

Ross had an unsettling feeling in his gut that it would have to be him.

One thing that Ross found almost impossible to comprehend was the way most of the squad consistently closed ranks around Goren whenever there was potentially any trouble. He'd first witnessed it when Eames had been abducted by Jo Gage but then the tension of the situation had kept Ross from really noticing it. He'd seen it again and again, but most noticeably at Thanksgiving, when Goren's insubordinate attitude could easily have seen him suspended. Ross had been prepared to do it, too, except that a quiet word from Logan had suggested that he would be seriously damaging his still fragile relationships within the squad if he dared to take any sort of action against Goren.

Ross hadn't known what bothered him more; that the squad was so protective of Goren or that Logan, whom Ross saw as old school like himself, was right at the forefront of the squad charge. It was disconcerting, and that was to say the very least.

So Goren had continued to do what he apparently did best – bring in the bad guys and garner confessions out of him through interrogations that were more like intricate dances than a clinical dissection. As had been the case many times throughout the last twelve months, Ross had seen Goren using techniques that were utterly unique, and gave Goren an edge like nothing Ross had ever seen before; even in his former partner, Nichols. And yet, despite the consistent results, Ross couldn't bring himself to trust Goren, and it frustrated Ross no end that he couldn't, for the life of him, think why.

The latest and most pressing issue, though, revolved around the Brady case; a sordid matter for all. With Goren's attention divided between his mother's deteriorating condition and trying to find a path through the sordid minefield that Brady had laid for him, Ross had wondered more than once how Goren had been able to function at all. But function he had, and his investigative abilities had uncovered another slew of Brady's victims that had previously been undiscovered.

At first, Ross thought it was a ploy to give Brady cause to stall his pending execution and he'd been fully, if somewhat unfairly, prepared to blame Goren for the mess. After all, it was one of Goren's past conquests... and didn't _that_ just sound positively sordid... who had put Goren in contact with Brady, triggering the whole, ludicrous situation. But no, apparently Brady had no intention of seeking a stay of execution. Ross had been equally relieved and suspicious to learn that the killer was not going to appeal for a stay whilst the new victims were catalogued and investigated.

Ross knew his suspicions were partially justified when Brady continued to demand Goren's attention, but he had no way to know the reasons behind the demands. Brady clearly wanted something from Goren but was either being too obtuse about his motives even for the brilliant detective, or Goren was keeping the knowledge strictly to himself.

He hoped it was the former, though he doubted it, because if he found out that Goren had learnt of some critical piece of information from Brady and was keeping it to himself, then he would draw and quarter the detective, the rest of the squad be damned.

And yes, he knew Goren had been summoned by Brady one last time, and had gone alone. He'd been informed by a former colleague who worked at the prison where Brady had sat on Death Row of Goren's final visit there, although he'd been unable to give any hints as to what might have transpired between the two men. All he'd been able to say was that the CCTV footage had crashed, and that Brady had been left with distinct bruises around his neck after the encounter. Goren had apparently almost run from the prison, looking utterly distraught. The bruises on Brady's neck were believed to have been caused by Goren, but there was no CCTV footage, no witnesses and Brady himself refused to make a complaint. In fact, son of a bitch had almost appeared smug, according to his friend, as though he'd finally gotten what he was after.

Ross didn't want to even contemplate what it was that Brady might have been after, where Goren was concerned. It simply didn't bear thinking about, and a tiny part of him couldn't help but feel that Goren was more than justified in trying the strangle the evil bastard.

Of course, then Goren's mother had died, and Brady had sent his final confession to Goren with that bizarre message about a birthday present, and any intentions Ross had had about finally confronting Goren over everything – strange interrogation techniques, the squad's loyalty to him, Eames and Logan's blatant need to protect Goren – were lost as Ross tried to get things back on track and under control.

He shut his eyes, fighting off a sudden headache. He wanted to understand the squad, and understand Goren, but he just couldn't help feeling like he was still the outsider, looking in on a close-knit group that he would never be able to break into.

A light rap on the door drew his attention, and he opened his eyes to reveal Eames in the doorway of his office.

"What is it, Eames?" he asked, sounding perhaps a little more stressed that he really wanted to. Eames, after all, had been nothing but respectful to him all the way along. If she was offended, though, it didn't show on her face.

"Captain, Logan and I are heading out to lunch."

It surprised him a little that she had bothered to ask his permission. After all, what times a cop took his meal break at was entirely the prerogative of the cop. He was intrigued, though, as to what might be behind their apparent eagerness to spend time with each other.

"That's fine," he said dismissively. "Just remember, I need that paperwork from the Brady case by the end of the day."

Eames paused in the doorway, looking very much as though she had something to say but had deliberately opted against saying it. For that, Ross was inexplicably grateful.

"Eames? Is there a problem?" he pressed, a little unnerved by her silent presence.

She ventured slowly into the office and when she spoke it was in a lilting and pacifying tone that he had so often heard her use on Goren.

"We want you to come with us, Captain."

For a good several seconds, he was sure he'd misheard her.

"Excuse me?"

She came to stand on the other side of the desk, and the expression on her face was one of absolute seriousness.

"Logan and I are going to Central Park for lunch. We'd like you to come with us. Wheeler, too. Logan is asking her now."

"I gather you're not just concerned about my apparent lack of sun exposure?" Ross commented dryly. Alex cracked a small smile.

"No, sir. It's a little more personal than that."

That got his attention, and he sat up slowly.

"All right, Detective Eames. You have my attention now. Explain yourself."

Alex nodded resolutely.

"You have questions about Goren. We have answers. If you want to hear them, you need to come with us now. This is a once-only offer, Captain Ross, because odds are that if you hold off, tomorrow when Goren wakes up he'll have changed his mind about letting us tell you the truth. Respectfully, sir, I think you really do need to come with us now."

It was a decision that really didn't need thinking about.

"Let me grab my coat."

* * *

_to be continued..._


	5. Show & Tell

_A/N: Next chapter - Bobby and Alex._

* * *

They crossed into Central Park five minutes later – Logan, Eames, Ross and Wheeler. Wheeler had jumped at the opportunity, clearly relieved to not be left out. When they arrived at the designated spot, a small restaurant with a separate room for private functions, Ross didn't know whether to be suspicious or angry to find Jim Deakins waiting for them.

"Danny," Deakins greeted the current Major Case captain with a firm handshake.

"Jim," Ross answered. He looked over at Mike and Alex, frowning deeply. "Why do I feel like I'm being ambushed here?"

"You're not," Mike said quickly. "Honestly. But before you hit the proverbial roof, can you at least give us the chance to explain. Please?"

Ross nodded curtly and sat down, motioning for Wheeler to do the same.

"All right. What's this all about?"

"Like I said," Alex responded, "you have questions and we can answer them. But to do that, we have tell you a story, and it's not a very pleasant one. Let us tell you, and then you can ask whatever questions you want, and we'll do our best to answer them. Fair enough?"

Ross nodded again, and settled back in his seat. He had a feeling this was going to turn into a fairly extended lunch break, and quietly hoped that no one came looking for him in the meantime.

"All right. Go ahead."

"Have you ever heard of a place and an organisation called the Centre?" Deakins asked quietly. When Ross shook his head, Deakins went on sombrely. "One of its main buildings is located in a little town called Blue Cove, Delaware."

"_Was_," Mike added coolly, with more than just a hint of satisfaction that drew a suspicious look from Ross. Deakins glanced at Mike in warning before carrying on with the story.

"Terrible experiments were carried out there, and many of them were on children. Many years back, Bobby Goren was handed over to the Centre as a seven year old by his father in exchange for a regular stipend and ongoing care for his wife, who had just suffered her first major psychotic break. He remained in the Centre for approximately five years, until he was smuggled out and eventually returned to his family."

"He told you this himself?" Wheeler wondered with a sceptical frown. Deakins answered with a nod. He understood her scepticism and wasn't offended by it.

"Yes, but I also knew about it because years ago I was a rookie cop in Blue Cove. The woman who got Bobby out had come to me asking for help, though I didn't know what sort of help she needed until she turned up in the middle of the night with Bobby, begging me to help her get him away from the Centre. I drove right through the night to get Bobby out of Blue Cove, to safety here in New York. He was battered and abused, physically, psychologically and emotionally, and he was just twelve years old. Then, three years ago, the Centre came after him again."

"Remember the rumours going around, that _crazy _Bobby Goren had finally snapped and gone AWOL?" Mike asked, sounding as though he was still angry at the perceived insult to Bobby's integrity. Ross nodded slowly.

"I do remember hearing something like that."

He dared not confess that he had joined in the jokes about Bobby that had swept through the ranks at the time. It had been all too easy, though, to get caught up in the moment, and have a joke about the NYPD's resident kooky cop having finally lost his marbles. Bobby Goren's solve rate would always be respected, but the man's reputation had been nothing more than mud at the time.

"He didn't take off," Alex said flatly, and the tone of her voice made Ross wonder just how aware she was of the vicious rumours that had circulated. "He never had a breakdown. He was abducted by the Centre, right from inside One Police Plaza."

To their credit, neither Ross nor Wheeler laughed. Indeed, both regarded Alex with absolute seriousness, albeit a measure of cynicism.

"From _inside_ One Police Plaza?" Wheeler echoed incredulously. "That place is a fortress when it needs to be. How could a Major Case detective be abducted from there?"

"They had help," Deakins explained before Mike or Alex had a chance to speak. Naming names would benefit no one, and some things were simply better off left alone. "We were caught completely off-guard that day. _I _was caught off-guard. It was... a very bad day."

"The worst," Alex said, remembering with painful clarity the moment when they'd realised Bobby was gone, taken by his enemies. If someone had told her at that moment that she would have to wait another nine months before seeing him again, she doubted that she would have been able to cope.

"Assuming that's true," Ross said carefully, taking obvious care to keep his expression completely neutral, "then clearly he was either rescued or released."

"Rescued," Deakins clarified. "It took nine months, from the day Bobby was taken, to when we finally got him out. Then, it took another couple of months in seclusion to get him back to a state of mind where he could function on a semi-reasonable level."

"And exactly what did this... _Centre_ want with him?" Wheeler asked.

Deakins, Mike and Alex exchanged brief looks. This was where they wished that Jarod was here to explain or, at the very least, George Huang. They themselves still found it hard, getting their heads around the concept of a Pretender, even this far down the track. Grimacing a little, Deakins did his best to explain.

"The Centre ran a program that they called the Pretender Project. They took children who had been identified at an early age as geniuses, stripped them of their own identities and trained them to become anyone, to do anything. On the surface, the intention was to run scenarios that would help to save and improve lives. It was presented as a beneficial program, but that was a lie. Under that facade, it was all about profiteering. Bobby was one of a number of children who underwent the most unspeakable psychological and, in some instances, physical torments, all for the advancement of the program. The sorts of things they were expected to do... You really need to see to understand."

"Assuming we actually believe you," Ross said. Alex bristled visibly, but Deakins' hand on her shoulder settled her.

"We didn't believe it either, when we first heard the story from Jarod. He's another... escapee from the Centre."

"Are you sure the Centre isn't just a psychiatric hospital?" Wheeler asked dubiously, only to cringe at force of the glare that Alex sent in her direction.

"No, it was not a hospital, not by any stretch of the imagination."

"You keep saying _was_," Ross interrupted. "Is it no longer there?"

"Well," Deakins mused, "I can't say what might have happened in the few years since we rescued Bobby from there, but hours after we got out, the SEAL team that went in with us blew the place up."

"Blew it up?" Ross echoed. Mike smiled with deep satisfaction.

"That's right. Those SEAL boys levelled the whole fucking place. All that was left when they were done was rubble."

"How many people were killed?" Wheeler asked hoarsely, her mind reeling from the thought of the multiple lives that she imagined must have been lost.

"No one was killed," Alex said defensively, but Deakins coughed heavily, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "All right. _One_ person died. Otherwise, everyone got out in time. The intention wasn't to kill anyone, just to put a stop to that damned place, and what they were doing inside of it."

"And to try and give Bobby some peace of mind," Deakins added soberly. "Not that it really achieved that. Bobby knew better than any of us that the Centre was the people, and not the building."

"I'm sorry," Ross said after a long moment of thought. "I just find all this extremely hard to believe. I don't doubt your sincerity, but it just sounds as though you're..."

"Making excuses?" Alex suggested when he hesitated. "Trying to excuse Bobby's behaviour with a ridiculous story that is impossible to corroborate?"

"More or less," Ross conceded. "On the other hand, it would have been easier for you to tell me that his behaviour is a product of his childhood, growing up with a schizophrenic mother and a drunken and then absent father."

"Ironically, you're not far wrong," Deakins pointed out. It was those two factors that played a big part in Bobby being sold to the Centre in the first place."

Ross blinked owlishly as Deakins' words sank in.

"Sold?"

"Yes, Danny. Sold. Bobby's mother was sent to a psychiatric hospital when she suffered her first major psychotic break. Bobby's father was left to deal with two boys, one of whom he had never connected with emotionally. Somehow, I don't know how, Frank Goren Senior found out about the Centre, and he contacted them to find out if they were interested in taking Bobby. They did, and Bobby didn't see his home again for the next five years. According to his friend Lewis, Bobby was a completely different person when he came home. Where before he'd delighted in using his intellect, afterwards he did everything he could to hide his intelligence. He was sad all the time, he suffered from horrific nightmares and he was terrified whenever anyone in authority paid any attention to him."

"And this happened again three years ago?" Ross asked with a frown. "I'm sorry... I just find this whole scenario very hard to believe. How the hell could something that significant happen, and nobody know about it?" He paused, and his expression darkened a little. "Except, there are people who know about it, aren't there?"

"With the exception of Wheeler, yourself, Mulroney and Davage," Alex said, "the entire squad knows the truth about what happened to Bobby three years ago."

"And you're just telling me now," Ross said in a voice that was dangerously and deceptively calm. "Twelve months down the track, after who knows how many clashes, and I am only just finding out about all of this now?"

"Bobby only agreed today to tell you," Mike said, "and before you get pissy about that, you need to realise that even now Bobby struggles to talk about any of it. It was never going to be an easy thing for him to just come out and tell you about his past."

"You need to understand this, Captain Ross," Alex said tensely. She glanced pointedly at Wheeler. "Both of you need to understand. Who Bobby is now is at least partly a product of the mental reconditioning that the Centre put him through, firstly when he was a child and secondly when they abducted him as an adult. He's learning to deal with that, but it's not easy for him. That's why he's continued talking to George Huang on a regular basis, to try and help him work through it all. He didn't want to tell you before now because he was afraid."

"Afraid, Detective?" Ross asked sceptically. Alex stared him down easily, her courage boosted by her determination to support her partner.

"Yes, afraid. He knows what you think of him, of his methods. He knows you think he's a freak."

"I don't..."

"Yeah, you do," Mike cut in. "You came into the squad with that belief. Someone got in your ear first, or you'd heard the rumours about crazy Bobby Goren. I don't know what it was, and I don't really care. The point is, you came into the squad with that attitude, and Bobby reacted to it. That's why you've both done nothing but butt heads since you took over. Bobby decided early on that he didn't want you to know about the Centre, and about him being trained as a Pretender, because you had enough of a negative opinion of him as it was, and he didn't want to give you potential ammunition to kick him out of the squad, and out of the NYPD. He fought to save his career after what those bastards did to him, Captain. He fought like nothing you've ever seen, and you can't hold it against him for not wanting to do anything that might jeopardise it."

Ross answered Mike's words with silence as he thought heavily on what he'd just been told. It made sense – assuming it was true. Everything they'd just told him and Wheeler matched Bobby Goren's psychological state to perfection and, now that Ross thought back on the last twelve months, he recalled getting that unsettling notion on a regular basis that Goren was hiding something from him. Thinking back, Ross had to concede that that previously unsubstantiated suspicion had also played a part in cultivating a hostile attitude towards Goren.

Despite everything, though, Ross found himself struggling to accept what they were telling him. Even with former Major Case captain Jim Deakins there to support the story, Ross couldn't help think that he was being taken for a ride, and that the story was just a furphy to take his attention away from Goren's most recent indiscretion in the Brady case.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, shaking his head. "I want to believe you. I really do, but it just isn't that easy. Do you know how much it seems like I'm being confronted by the Robert Goren cheer squad here? I don't mean to be insulting, but I just can't keep myself from thinking that you're just hoping to take my attention away from Goren's latest... indiscretion."

"We figured you'd probably say something like that," Mike said, sounding far too accepting for Ross's liking. In fact, he sounded so calm and easy that Ross's internal alarm started practically screaming at him that he was about to be blindsided.

"You did, did you?" he asked, bemused.

"Yeah." Mike looked to Deakins. "Did you bring one?"

"I brought two," Deakins confirmed as he lifted a small case onto the table. "One from when he was a child, and one from three years ago."

"What is this?" Ross asked with a deepening frown. "What have you brought?"

"Sim discs," Alex explained. "Every simulation that Bobby was forced to do, every experiment that he was used as a guinea pig for, was recorded by the Centre. When we rescued Bobby, Jarod retrieved the sim discs from the Centre before it was destroyed. We have a selection of sim discs from Bobby's time there as a child, and all the discs from the nine months he was held prisoner by them. I brought two of them with me when I came here today, because we suspected you might need visual evidence to believe what we were telling you."

Ross watched uneasily as Deakins unpacked a portable DVD player, and loaded a plain gold disc into the machine, and hit play.

* * *

**_The Centre,  
__Blue Cove, Delaware_**

_Bobby sat in the chair, every muscle frozen. He was terrified, and had no compunctions about letting it show. Of all the torments that Raines had visited on him so far, this was by far the worst, especially since he had no idea whether Raines might just be mad enough to carry out the threat that was being implied._

_"You agreed to cooperate," Raines rasped. "This is what you used to do, after all. Isn't it?"_

_"Not like this," Bobby said hoarsely. "Nothing like this."_

_Raines circled him, and leaned in to stare him down. Bobby dropped his gaze, unwilling to meet Raines' beady, evil gaze._

_"We need your help, Bobby. **She** needs your help. Are you going to let her die, just because you're too scared?"_

_Bobby shut his eyes. It was a supreme effort to just keep from hyperventilating. Really, it was a miracle that he hadn't pissed himself like a little baby. He still might and, quite honestly, he wasn't sure he cared if he did. _

_He supposed he would later on, when they inevitably punished him by hosing him down, but right then? Nothing mattered to him except getting the hell out of the chair he was strapped into._

_"Just do this pretend," Raines told him in a soothing tone that Bobby mistrusted completely, "and you can go back to your room. It's simple, Bobby. You'll be helping. I promise."_

_"I don't trust you," Bobby said shakily. "I don't trust your promises. You lie to me, every time. I hate you!"_

_"I don't need you to like me, Bobby," Raines said in a bored voice. "I need you to cooperate. You said you would, when I told you what it was for."_

_"You told me I'd be doing a pretend to help find a missing child," Bobby choked out. "You never told me that I'd be strapped into a fucking electric chair to do it!"_

_Raines was unapologetic. _

_"It needs to be as realistic as possible. Evans is on death row. He's scheduled to be executed, but he had someone abduct that child. He knows where she is, he's said as much. He's taunting those poor parents. Are you really going to refuse to do this, knowing their six year-old daughter's life is on the line?"_

_Tears spilled down Bobby's cheeks._

_"I said I would. You didn't need to put me into an electric chair to try and force me into it!"_

_"Realism, Bobby."_

_"Bullshit!" Bobby exploded. "You're just screwing with my head, like you always do! I don't need to be in this thing, I can do the pretend without it! Get me out of here!"_

_"What is your problem, Bobby? Do you really think I'd let you be electrocuted?"_

_"Yes!" Bobby roared. "Yes, I do, because you would! Just for the hell of it, you would. Look me in the eye, and tell me you wouldn't!"_

_Raines stopped in front of Bobby, and looked him straight in the eye._

_"Do the pretend, Bobby, or I will personally push the button, and electrocute you."_

_Bobby's breath came in laboured gasps as he and Raines stared at each other. Finally, Bobby shut his eyes and rested his head back against the chair. _

_"Give me a minute."_

_"Alyssa might not have a minute, Bobby."_

_"Just give me one fucking minute!" Bobby snarled, but as he spoke, his voice changed, taking on a guttural edge. When he opened his eyes again, there was a distinct glint in them, a permeation of evil. A satisfied smile touched Raines' lips._

_"Very good. Tell me about yourself."_

_Bobby's breathing was still coming in harsh gasps, but it was no longer fear that caused it. Instead, there was a blood lust there would have terrified most people._

_"I want blood, pain, death."_

_"Why?" Raines asked. "Were you abused as a child?"_

_Bobby's lips twisted in a cruel sneer._

_"No. My parents loved me. They were firm, but fair. I was... brought up right. But I like pain. I've always liked pain. My best friend broke his arm when we were eight. I did my best to help him, but his pain gave me so much pleasure. After that, I went looking for it. I got a job as an intern at the hospital when I was old enough, because it was the best place to watch people in pain, in so much pain. I learnt so much about how to cause the most exquisite pain while I worked there."_

_"Just physical pain?" Raines wondered. _

_"To start with," Bobby confirmed. "It wasn't until much later that I started to understand how much pain I could inflict with mental and emotional torture. The bliss it gave me, when I learned to combine all three! And children... they had the most beautiful responses. So much better than adults."_

_"And Alyssa?" Raines asked. Bobby's smile widened._

_"I was going to take her when I was caught. I knew how good she'd be. Such a perfect little girl. I was really looking forward to seeing her come apart for me, but I knew they were never going to let me go. But that little girl... I couldn't stop thinking about her, so I had my disciple take her."_

_"You have a disciple?"_

_"Oh yes. All messiahs do. She's a little rough around the edges, you know, but she's going to be magnificent. When I'm gone, she'll carry on my work. She might even be better than I am. She's still learning, but there is so much potential."_

_ "Who is your disciple?"_

_"That's inconsequential."_

_"You just said she'll be better than you. Now you're saying she's inconsequential."_

_Bobby laughed. He began to laugh raucously, with more than just a hint of malice. _

_"What's so funny?" Raines asked. He was starting to be irritated. However, Bobby's laughter only increased in strength, until it was borderline hysterical. Scowling, Raines walked across to a control panel, adjusted a knob and pushed a single black button. _

_Electricity surged through the chair, causing Bobby to go rigid, and turning his laughter into a scream of pain. It was nowhere near enough to kill him, but certainly enough to temporarily cripple him._

_"Son of a bitch," Bobby whispered, blood trickling from his mouth where he'd bitten his tongue. _

_"You were out of control," Raines said, still unapologetic. "I had no choice. Now, explain."_

_Bobby struggled to lift his head, but he couldn't. In the end, he gave up trying._

_"The disciple isn't the focus. He's just a means to an end. Evans never intended to kill Alyssa. He wants to make her into a carbon copy of himself. The disciple's job is to do that. She's being brainwashed... deconstructed and recreated according to Evans' wishes."_

_Raines was silent, and when Bobby managed to glance up at him, he was disturbed to see the unholy gleam in the other man's eyes. _

_"You don't care where she is," he accused. "You never cared. You just wanted to know about Evans, and what he had planned for her. Did you ever intend on trying to find her?"_

_"We always intended to find her," Raines said with a smirk. "You've just given us a reason not to find her too quickly."_

_"You evil bastard..." Bobby choked out. "I'll tell Sydney!"_

_Raines laughed. _

_"Go ahead, Bobby. Do you really think he'd overlook an opportunity to see a child recreated into a psychopath? It's the perfect opportunity for study. He'll jump at the chance."_

_"I'm going to kill you," Bobby whispered, hatred filling his features. "One day, I swear to God that I am going to kill you, Raines."_

_In reply, Raines returned to the control panel, and hit the black button once more, this time sending Bobby crashing into the welcome oblivion of unconsciousness._

* * *

"This is for real?" Ross asked softly, once Deakins had turned off the DVD player.

"Unfortunately, very real," Deakins confirmed. "And it's just one of many examples. Danny, we aren't trying to give you a reason to write Bobby off. What we're trying to do is make you understand that despite the hell he'd been through, Bobby survived. He fought his way back and in many ways, he's still fighting. Everything else that's happened this year has just made it that much harder for him, but he's still fighting, and he will continue to fight. Can you understand that?"

Ross sighed.

"Against my better judgement, I think I can." He paused, looking from Deakins, to Alex, to Mike and back to Deakins again. "I need some time to process all of this. Logan, I'll see you back at the squad room in an hour or so. Eames, take the rest of the day and see that Goren is all right. I'll see _you_ tomorrow, and I'll see him again when he feels he's ready to come back to work. Wheeler? Let's go."

"Do you think we did the right thing?" Alex wondered softly as they watched the captain and their fellow detective walk away.

"Yeah, I do," Mike said. "He needed to know. We couldn't expect him to understand Bobby without knowing the truth. It was unreasonable of Bobby to expect that. Personally, I think he took it a whole lot better than we could reasonably expect, too."

"Mike is right," Deakins agreed. "He could have reacted in any number of ways. The fact that he heard us out, and watched the sim disc, is a positive thing. And at any rate, we have one last card to play if he decides that we're just trying to pull a fast one on him."

"George?" Alex asked, and Deakins nodded.

"George. As long as Bobby gives him the okay, he said he's prepared to talk to Ross about Bobby's experiences in the Centre. I don't think we'll need to go that far, though. He watched the sim disc. It's pretty compelling evidence."

"I hope so," Alex sighed. "With all the crap that he's been through already this year, the last thing he needs is the captain deciding that he's a spanner short of a tool kit."

"Do you know if he's talked to Jarod recently?" Deakins asked tentatively. He was slightly wary about mentioning the other Pretender, if only because Alex seemed to be particularly touchy about the fact that there were some things Bobby either would or could only talk to Jarod about. Despite his absolute trust in Alex, she knew full well that there was still much about his time in the Centre that he had yet to share. She'd tried to encourage him, but couldn't break through that final barrier.

"No, not within the last month," Alex answered. "I wish Jarod would contact him, though. He's been having a recurring nightmare, but he won't talk to me about it. All I know is that it revolves around Sydney."

Deakins and Mike exchanged grim looks.

"Sydney," Mike muttered. "That evil son of a bitch. What I wouldn't give to get my hands on him."

"You'd have to get in line," Alex said heatedly. "You know, I think I hate him even more than I hated Raines and Lyle."

"You're not alone," Deakins assured her. "And Bobby's hatred of him is understandable, even if Jarod doesn't want to accept it."

"Bobby trusted Sydney," Alex said. "He trusted Sydney to do whatever he could to protect him, and the bastard hung him out to dry. If he ever shows his face here, I don't know that I'll be able to stop myself from giving him the same treatment that we gave to Raines and Lyle."

"Take it easy, Alex," Deakins urged her. "I know what we resolved where those two were concerned but in the end, we killed them in the process of defending Bobby. They were going to kill him. We all know that Sydney won't try to hurt Bobby. At least, not physically. We'd have no justification for killing him."

Alex snorted derisively.

"That's a matter of opinion."

Deakins shook his head.

"You wouldn't risk throwing your career on something that you would never be able to publically justify, Alex. Not without dragging Bobby through the ringer as well."

"Not to mention outing him publically, and we all know that most people would think he really was nuts. Most folks aren't interested in a truth like the Centre. They can't accept that people could be treated in the way that Bobby was treated. That's why we still have Holocaust deniers in this day and age."

Alex held up her hands defensively.

"Okay, okay! So, maybe I wouldn't kill the son of a bitch, but I guarantee I'll take satisfaction in punching him, at the very least."

Mike chuckled, then, as they prepared to leave.

"Now _that's _a plan I could get behind."

* * *

_to be continued..._


	6. Bobby & Alex

Bobby was still dozing on the sofa when Alex let herself into his apartment. She stood just inside the door for a minute, watching him with a small, sad smile on her lips as he slept. It was such a rare thing to see him sleeping peacefully that she was sorely tempted to slip back out again before her presence disturbed him. She was just contemplating that very action when he spoke in a voice that was still affected by sleep.

"You gonna just stand there and stare at me?"

Alex smiled wryly.

"Well, I thought I might stand and stare."

Bobby opened one eye and peered at her with what she could only describe as a fuzzy gaze.

"Am I that much of a wreck?"

Her smile and her stomach dropped simultaneously. Ensuring the door was locked behind her, she walked over to the sofa and seated herself carefully on the edge, beside him.

"No, you're not a wreck, Bobby. You're just a man who's grieving for his mom."

He reached up and found her hand, enclosing it in his larger one.

"Thanks for coming to the funeral with me this morning."

She guided his hand to her cheek, and kissed it softly.

"I'm just sorry I had to head straight to work afterwards. I'm off now until tomorrow, though. Ross gave me the okay to come and see you, make sure that you're okay. He said to come back to work when you're ready."

Bobby sighed.

"I just need a few days. I'll be okay... eventually."

Silence fell between them; not exactly comfortable, but not really awkward, either. Alex waited patiently. She knew without it being said that Bobby had a multitude of things on his mind, and it always took him some time to get it all sorted out in his own head before he was able to actually put any of it into words. It was an aspect of his personality that many others didn't understand, and she knew a number of his past partners had frequently gotten frustrated with him for the long periods he tended to spend in silence, mulling over the facts of a case. She'd learnt early on to give him the space and time he needed, and her reward was in knowing that he would always come to her once he'd sorted those facts out, and run his theories by her for corroboration and critique.

Now was not so different, even though the circumstances were. He needed time to work out what it was that he wanted or needed to say, and she was willing to let him take it.

"I told Mike about what happened when I talked to Brady that last time," Bobby said finally, deciding in his own mind that the Brady issue was possibly the least of the discomfiting subjects that he knew he had to talk to her about. That, and it more or less was a precursor to the others.

It took some effort on Alex's part to keep her expression passive, and to avoid showing any negative emotion to Bobby. Even though she had to admit to herself that the idea that Bobby's father might have been Mark Ford Brady made her want to cringe, she reminded herself sternly that Bobby could not be held accountable for his parentage. When he'd told her three days ago about it, she knew her shock had been clear, but he had expected it then. It was vital now that she knew, that she contained her emotions and did nothing to encourage him to think that she thought less of him for it.

"You told Mike that Brady thought you were his son," she clarified finally. Bobby smiled, and chuckled mirthlessly.

"Yes, I told him," Bobby confirmed. "But did he tell you about my little theory?"

Here, Alex hesitated. Again, she could understand the logic behind Bobby's theory, and it certainly offered an explanation as to why Raines had been so eager to get his hands on Bobby once more. Like Bobby, she also knew about Jarod's brother, Kyle, and the horrific psychological reconditioning Raines had committed upon the boy to turn him into a psychopath. It gave her chills to think about the evil troll of a man attempting to do the same thing to Bobby.

"He told me you thought that Raines might have known. How could he have known, Bobby? Brady didn't even come under suspicion for the original murders until years after Catherine Parker got you out of the Centre."

"He might not have known Brady was my real father..."

"_Might_ have been your real father," she corrected him gently. "You don't know for sure whether he was or not, Bobby."

He nodded in concession. She was right and regardless of whether he believed Brady or not, he did not yet have any actual evidence to prove Brady right. Until he did, it was only supposition.

"Might have been. I wouldn't be surprised, though, if it turns out that it's true, that he did know. Even if he didn't know at first, he would have found out. It's just the sort of thing that he would have made a point of learning about. Anything that might have given him more control over me, in any way. I think he wanted to do to me what he did to Kyle. And if he'd had any idea that my real father was... or even just _could_ have been a serial killer, he would have jumped at the opportunity. Genetics... We try to deny them, but they still play a big part in who we are... and in who we become."

The more she thought about it, though, the more Alex doubted it.

"I don't know, Bobby. I mean, I know what you're saying. I understand that, and I don't doubt that you're right, but I don't think Raines had any clue that there was any question over your parentage. Your mother kept that one well and truly under wraps, even at the height of her illness. You never suspected a thing until Brady threw you that curveball, so why would he have suspected it? Besides, above all else, did Raines at any time ever raise the subject of your parents with you?"

Bobby frowned, racking his memory for anything that would back up his theory. Finally, after a good few minutes' silence, he had to concede that he couldn't recall any instances.

"No. Not when I was there for that nine months as an adult, and not that I can remember from when I was there as a kid. I mean, not in terms of questioning who my parents were. He raised the subject of Mom and Dad with me all the time when I was a boy, but only to reinforce that I wasn't ever going to see them again, and that the Centre was my home." Bobby shuddered. "He tried telling me once that he was my new father, and I had violent nightmares for a week afterwards."

"I don't blame you," Alex murmured.

Sighing, Bobby pushed himself up somewhat awkwardly into a sitting position so that Alex could join him properly on the sofa. She curled in against him, slipping her arms around his waist, and he folded his arms around her shoulders to hold her to him. It was a familiar, comfortable and comforting position for them both.

"I get so frustrated," he confessed, at the same time pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "I know I'm still working through it all, even now, but I can't help wishing that I could just put it all behind me. I did that once before, though, and look what happened. I buried it so deep inside my mind that it nearly broke me when I was forced to remember it all. I can't let that happen again. As much as I want to forget about it, I can't. I have to remember, for my own sake."

"I know the memories are awful," Alex murmured. "But try and focus on some of the positives. Look at how many people you've helped, and how many criminals you've nailed because of your skills as a Pretender."

"That's the other thing," Bobby said with a bitter laugh. "I can't help but wonder, is this all just one big Pretend? Am I going to wake up one day and realise that I've just been kidding myself all these years? That I'm no more a police detective than I am a doctor, or a lawyer, or any of the other things that I've had to pretend at being!"

His self doubt was nothing new to Alex. Ever since his rescue from the Centre, Bobby had suffered ongoing bouts of self-doubt about who he really was. Even his very name had at one time been a focus of his doubts, thanks to the psychopathic Mr Lyle. She hated that the Centre had so effectively reinforced what had already been a terrible plague on his conscious and unconscious mind – that he was living a lie and didn't deserve the life he'd worked so hard to achieve.

Alex didn't really know if it was a trauma from his childhood inside the Centre, or just a part of who he was, thanks to a life of uncertainty with a drunken, absent father and a schizophrenic mother. She suspected that it was possibly a little bit of both. Either way, that ongoing self-doubt was something that he'd never truly been able to rid himself of. Consequently, she was only too glad that he was so willing to let her reinforce his worth, both as a detective and as a man.

"Listen to me, Bobby," she said in a soft but firm tone. She drew gently back as she spoke, not entirely out of his hold but far enough back that she could look him in the eye without having to crane her neck to do so. "You are not pretending at this life. It's who you are. You worked hard to get here, and you fought to keep it when you could just as easily have quit. Don't let Raines' memory destroy what you've achieved for yourself. What you've done with your life is all you. You deserve it, and no one can take it away from you unless you let them."

Sighing again, Bobby leaned down and closed his lips over hers in a prolonged kiss that was anything but chaste. She responded gladly, revelling in the taste of him – whiskey, with the faintest hint of tobacco.

"You're wrong about one thing," he said finally when they broke apart. Alex looked puzzled.

"What about?"

"It wasn't all me," he corrected her. "Getting to this point, I mean. Without you, I would never have survived my first twelve months with Major Case. Without you, I wouldn't have achieved the rank of Detective First Class. Without you, I would never have survived nine months in that hell hole, and without you I wouldn't have found the strength to recover from what they did to me in that place. A lot of people helped me, but you saved me."

Alex leaned in to hug him fiercely, tears welling in her eyes at his heartfelt declaration.

"I love you, Bobby. I love you so much."

"I love you," Bobby whispered into her hair. "I love you more than anything, Alex."

They sat like that for some time, comfortable in each other's presence and not feeling any need to talk. When Bobby finally spoke again, it was to ask a question that Alex had been expecting from the moment she entered the apartment.

"Did you talk to Ross?"

Alex couldn't quite keep her breath from catching in her throat. She knew he'd conceded to Ross and Wheeler being told the truth, but a small part of her couldn't help but think that they'd taken advantage of him in the immediate wake of his mother's death. His defences would have been at an all-time low when Mike came to see him and, knowing that he had been drinking as Mike said, she didn't think he would have had much of an ability to argue.

She resisted the urge to apologise, though. That would only potentially make it seem worse, like they'd deliberately conspired against him at a time when he was least able to defend himself, and it really hadn't been like that. Well, maybe it had been a little bit like that, she admitted to herself.

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she answered quietly and honestly.

"Yes, we did. We included Wheeler as well."

"So now they know."

"Yes," she confirmed. "We arranged to meet Deakins in Central Park, and Mike and I took Captain Ross and Wheeler there. We told him the truth, about the Centre, but I'm not so sure he really believed it to start with."

As she spoke, she could feel his body tensing slightly. When she got to that last bit, though, he went almost completely rigid against her, and his breath began to speed up just a fraction.

"You had to show him a sim disc, didn't you?" Bobby asked. Alex squeezed him reassuringly around the middle. "Which one did you show him?"

Alex shut her eyes.

"Bobby, do you really need to know?"

"I'd like to know how much Ross is likely to think I'm totally out of my mind before I go back to work," he answered bitterly. Alex suppressed a groan.

"He doesn't think that, Bobby. Please, give him a chance. You know it's a lot to deal with. There were times when some of those sim discs through _us_ for a loop as well. Even Jarod was shocked by some of it."

"Mainly because some of them proved what a heartless bastard Sydney really is."

"True," Alex agreed, "but you know what I mean. From Ross's point of view, this is the first he knew about any of this, and we've just thrown him in the proverbial deep end. You have to give him some time to deal with it all, and process it in his own mind."

Bobby considered that for a minute before speaking.

"Do you think he'll accept it?"

"I think he will," Alex murmured, settling against him once more. "He's a reasonable guy, Bobby. It's just that you two have butted heads since day one, and neither one of you has been willing to back off. Give him a chance, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

"I want to," Bobby confessed. "I know I said I didn't want him to know, but the truth is that I've wanted to tell him all this year. Part of me doesn't understand why I couldn't bring myself to tell him..."

"I don't know why you procrastinated over it for this long," Alex mused, "but I do think you had a pretty legitimate reason not to tell him immediately. I think if you had, he might not have been as receptive as he was today. I'm just sorry that Commissioner Adkins and Chief Harris aren't here any longer. There's no way Ross could have had any doubts at all if those two had still been around to back us up." She paused, and a rueful look flickered across her face. "There was a time when I never thought I'd say I was sorry that Harris wasn't around."

"He did the wrong thing," Bobby said, "but I can understand why he did it. I don't like it, but I do understand. And the fact is that even if he had come clean about it right at the start, what could we have done? He was right, they would have killed his sister. I don't blame him for putting her welfare ahead of mine. I survived. She wouldn't have."

"You're a bigger person than I am," Alex said. "I know I've said that before, but it still amazes me how you can still see things like that from other people's perspectives."

A wry smile touched Bobby's lips.

"I'm a Pretender, remember? It's what I do."

Alex laughed softly, and stretched up to kiss him again.

"So, do you think you'll be okay?" she asked. Bobby considered the question before answering.

"I think so, eventually. It still hurts, losing Mom, but it's not as though I have to face it on my own."

"No, you don't," Alex confirmed. "You have me, Mike, Deakins, George... You even have Elliot, Olivia, Fin and Munch over at SVU. You're not alone, Bobby. Don't ever let yourself think that you are."

"And I have Jarod and his family," Bobby added.

Alex smiled, recalling the other Pretender's family with fondness. Even though she had clashed a couple of times with Major Charles over his apparent willingness to consign Bobby to a psychiatric hospital, Alex had eventually concluded that he was a good man who loved his family and never wanted them to broken apart again in the way that they had once been. That the whole family had opened their home and their hearts not just to Bobby but to herself, Mike, Carolyn and Deakins as well was something that she would never forget. Alex knew that if any of them ever needed help, she would not hesitate to give it. She knew that Deakins, Mike, Carolyn and, most of all, Bobby all felt the same way.

"Yes, you do," she murmured.

"So what now?" Bobby asked softly. He sounded tired again, she thought. It was no wonder. The last few days had been truly draining for him on both a mental and emotional level. She stood up and held a hand out to him. He took it without hesitation and allowed himself to be drawn to his feet.

"Now, we go and have a lie down for a few hours, and recuperate. Then we're going to Mom and Dad's place for dinner. After that...? We'll just see."

She favoured him with warm smile, not even attempting sexy, and he responded with an equally beautiful smile that was only slightly tempered by the grief he was experiencing.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

She squeezed his hand lightly.

"Believe me, Bobby, I've asked myself the same question plenty of times over, even before we got together."

* * *

_to be continued..._


	7. Clouds on the Horizon

Danny Ross arrived back at his office to find a message from the Chief of Detective's office on his message machine, requesting that he present himself upstairs immediately on his return. He allowed himself the luxury of a small groan, knowing that no one could possibly hear it. 'Request' was polite terminology for 'get your ass upstairs now', and he knew he would get a proverbial ass-kicking if he didn't comply. Schooling his features into a practised look of indifference, Ross headed back out of the squad room.

* * *

Darren Boucher was almost as new in the job as Ross, having taken over the role of Chief of Detectives from Bryan Harris only a month before Ross was appointed to take over captaincy of the Major Case Squad after Deakins retired. Ross didn't really know the man personally when he took over at Major Case, but he did know his reputation. Boucher was as honest as they came, but he was also very much old-school and Ross knew he preferred the old 'nose to the grindstone' style of detective work that had worked well enough in the past but only worked now when coupled with the type of psychological profiling that Bobby Goren was accomplished in.

That wasn't to say that Boucher was against the psyche side of police work; he was well known to be open-minded towards new techniques, and had never been known to oppose any new style of policing, provided it was given an ample period of trial first. There was something about Boucher, though, that every time he was called to see him, Ross couldn't stop himself from feeling uncomfortably like a schoolboy who had just been caught smoking behind the gym.

He hated it, but it also had him wondering whether that was at all how Bobby Goren felt every time he demanded to see him about a case. The realisation was something of a jolt to the system, and he once again was forced to acknowledge that, by his own behaviour, he must have helped to make it an easy decision for Goren not to tell him about the Centre.

Ross barely kept himself from grimacing as he rode up to the fourteenth floor in the elevator.

The Centre. He couldn't help but wonder at the legitimacy of it all, even after watching that... what did they call it? Even after watching that sim disc. Even though the visual evidence they'd presented appeared to be beyond argument, Ross's logical mind tried to rail against it. Despite knowing the depths of depravity that humans were capable of sinking to when it came to their fellow men, Ross struggled to accept that there had been an entire organisation out there that had been dedicated to the types of degeneracy that Ross knew his own mind would have difficulty imagining.

Of course he knew about the several months during which Bobby Goren had gone missing. Just about everyone in the NYPD knew about it, and had heard at least one of the numerous stories circulating to go with his mysterious disappearance. The story that Ross had personally subscribed to was the one that Logan had mentioned earlier in Central Park, that Goren had finally snapped and gone crazy, and joined his mother in the Carmel Ridge psychiatric residence. That was one of the more sympathetic rumours. There had been others circulating that were far worse and far more damaging to Goren's reputation. Those were rumours that Ross had never and would never repeat. Love or loathe the man, no one deserved to have their character and reputation torn to shreds in the way that some cops had tried to do.

Of course, then Goren had resurfaced and, despite the strength of the rumours about him, had been back at work as though nothing had happened. Now, Ross knew the truth... at least, as far as Logan, Eames and their former captain presented it.

He walked into the outer office of the Chief of Detectives, his mind awhirl as he tried to focus. The last thing he needed right then was for Boucher to pick up on his distracted state and want to know what was wrong. Above all else, whether he really believed what he'd been told or not, he couldn't break confidence and tell anyone what he had heard or seen. That much he was confident of.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Ross approached Boucher's personal assistant. She glanced up as he walked in, and offered him a pleasant smile. That smile, more so than anything she might have said, calmed any fears that might have been playing at the edge of his thoughts. If she was smiling, then whatever Boucher wanted couldn't be too unpleasant. At least, that was the theory he was working on, and he was going to cling to it for as long as humanly possible.

"Good afternoon, Captain Ross. Chief Boucher asked that I send you in as soon as you arrive. Please go ahead."

Ross nodded.

"Thank you, Jen. I don't suppose you know what it's about?"

The smile turned apologetic.

"Sorry, Captain. It's not for me to say, and I do like my job, if you get my meaning."

"Of course," he murmured, somewhat abashed. "Sorry."

He crossed the floor and, with a single knock on the closed door of Boucher's office, let himself in.

* * *

He entered a moderate sized office that was furnished modestly. Each time he found himself in this office Ross couldn't help but quietly appreciate the lack of excess displayed by the latest Chief of Detectives. It was a good example to all of the officers under his command that he refused to waste money on any sort of extravagances. The man didn't even have his own coffee maker at his disposal.

As he walked in, he noted another man seated in one of the chairs across from Boucher. He was an older man, civilian by all appearances, and he looked completely at ease where he sat.

"Captain Ross, come in," Boucher greeted him. "Have a seat, please."

Acknowledging the as yet unidentified man with a slight nod, Ross seated himself in the remaining empty chair. Any relief he'd felt upon entering the room was gone, and he found himself sitting stiffly on the edge of the seat. Boucher eyed him with mild amusement.

"You can relax, Ross. You're not in trouble."

Slowly, Ross sat back, although he couldn't quite bring himself to relax completely. Boucher nodded.

"Fair enough. I'll get to the point, shall I?"

"I'd appreciate it, sir," Ross said. "I do have a lot of work to do, and we are temporarily undermanned."

"Right. Goren is on compassionate leave, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir. His mother's funeral was just this morning. I took the liberty of letting him take all the time he needs. It... hasn't been an easy year for him."

Boucher nodded thoughtfully.

"No, I don't suppose it has. I heard he doesn't adapt to change all that well. Had issues with Deakins retiring...?"

Ross's thoughts went briefly to the harrowing story he'd heard earlier that day, and he couldn't help but think that the idea that Goren couldn't cope with change was so wide of the mark that it almost wasn't even in the same ballpark.

"Actually, sir, he's adapted to the change of command quite well. Unfortunately, he was disadvantaged in that I took over the squad with pre-conceived ideas about him and his methods. If there has been any trouble, it's as much my fault as anyone's."

Boucher's eyebrows lifted, and he exchanged a brief glance with the silent stranger in the other chair.

"That's extremely generous of you, Ross. But nonetheless, that isn't actually why I called you up here. It's come to my attention that it's been well over twelve months since the detectives in your squad had their last psyche evaluations."

Ross wasn't quite sure whether to be relieved or not when he realised where Boucher was headed with the conversation. On the one hand, psyche evaluations were generally nothing to be worried about, but it concerned him that it should come up now when Goren was at a very low ebb, with his mother's passing and the trauma induced by the Brady case. Yes, he knew more about that than Goren had been willing to share, although he had yet to learn just what had happened during Goren's final meeting with Brady. Something told him that he probably didn't really want to know.

"And when did you want the squad to have these evaluations?" he asked, quietly proud of how even he managed to keep his voice relatively even.

"I thought they could take place next week," Boucher said. He motioned to the other man. "This is Doctor Gray. He's been employed by the NYPD in his capacity as a psychologist to evaluate your detectives. It was thought that bringing in an independent doctor might reassure the detectives being evaluated that there's no hidden agenda. We just want to ensure they're all fit for duty. It's completely regular and, as I said, your squad has actually gone past the due time for an evaluation. So, I trust this isn't going to be an issue?"

"No, sir," Ross said. "I'm sure it won't be."

"Very good. Doctor Gray will be back next week, then, and I'll expect you to give him the time and space he needs to do his job. Doctor, if you'd care to see Jen outside my office, she'll put into process arranging a visitor's pass for you for next week."

Gray nodded agreeably, rising to shake hands firstly with Boucher, and then with Ross.

"Captain. I shall look forward to working with your detectives."

Then he was gone, leaving the Chief and the Captain alone.

"Sir, about Goren," Ross said once the office door had closed. "I don't think it would be of any benefit to put him through an evaluation so soon after his mother's death."

Boucher shook his head.

"Rubbish. Probably the best time for it. It'll give him a chance to talk out any issues he might have, in addition to getting the evaluation out of the way."

Ross blinked, taken aback.

"Sir... This is Robert Goren we're talking about. He's not exactly going to be forthcoming with a complete stranger about his recently deceased mother. If anything, I think forcing him into it too soon will only cause him to clam up."

"I understand what you're saying," Boucher conceded, "but I want this evaluation to take place, and Goren won't be an exception. Even if you have to call him in from leave next week, he will undergo the evaluation, the same as his colleagues. Is that understood?"

Ross felt sick to his stomach at the order, and wasn't entirely sure why.

"Yes, sir. He won't like it, and I can't guarantee what the result is going to be, but I'll make sure he takes it."

"Look, Danny, try and make him understand that we're not trying to stitch him up here. It's standard procedure that detectives undergo regular evaluations. It's past time for your squad, and it'll benefit everyone to get it over with sooner rather than later. It isn't a make or break for anyone's career, least of all Goren's. It's _just_ procedure. All right?"

Ross let his breath out in a rush, thinking for the first time since walking into Boucher's office that maybe it wasn't anything to be too worried about.

"All right."

* * *

_That evening,  
__Manhattan, New York City_

Sydney sat by the window of the little café as dusk fell, indulging in his favourite pastime of observing passers-by as he sipped his coffee. It was fascinating, watching so many different people in such a compacted environment. Not that New York wasn't big enough, of course. It was more that people seemed to be drawn en masse to the city in general, and to specific locations within the city in particular. He didn't see himself as part of that throng; he was drawn for entirely different reasons to the masses that were, for the most part, after entirely commercial pursuits. He loved to watch, though, sometimes for hours at a time. It was a luxury that he'd only had since the destruction of the Centre's base of operations in Blue Cove, and the Triumvirate had made the decision to cease pursuit of Bobby Goren.

Distracted momentarily from his chosen activity of people watching, Sydney found himself reflecting once more on the disastrous decision to pursue Bobby. Everyone, himself included, had completely underestimated the lengths that both his colleagues and Jarod would go to in order to free Bobby from the Centre. The assault on the Centre to free the Pretender, coupled with the stunning destruction of the facility, was unprecedented, even for Jarod. Then, as if the loss of so much research hadn't been enough, the Triumvirate had sent Lyle and Raines to New York to reacquire Bobby, only to be returned in body bags.

That had truly stunned Sydney. For all the times that someone had tried to kill either of those two, and had failed, it had seemed that killing them was next to impossible. And yet, a small group of NYPD officers, operating more or less as vigilantes, outside the boundaries of their authority, had succeeded where so many before them had failed. Raines and Lyle were dead, killed in the process of attempting to reacquire Bobby for the Centre. It was shortly after that turn of events, that the Triumvirate had finally decided to cut is collective losses and wash its hands of Bobby.

What truly amazed Sydney, though, was that Bobby had been allowed to live. Every other adult Pretender who had been living outside the boundaries of the Centre, with the exception of Jarod, had been executed long ago once it had been decided that they were no longer of any use to the Centre. It beggared belief that Bobby had been given a free pass, and Sydney wondered even now if there was some ulterior motive behind the decision.

Still, it was irrelevant. He was, as far as he was concerned, on permanent sabbatical from the Centre, and he had no intention of ever going back. Too many lives had been destroyed by that place, and it was time to remove himself from it entirely. Maybe, by doing so, he would be able to reconcile with Jarod, whom he hadn't heard from in nearly two years.

A discomforting sensation descended on him, and lingered deep in his gut. His last contact with Jarod had been a deeply unpleasant phone call, in which Sydney had been reminded starkly of his failing when he'd unthinkingly placed Bobby inside the focus chamber, and Bobby had drowned. He couldn't recall Jarod ever being so angry with him before, and he remembered with a chill the warning of what might happen should he ever attempt to make contact with Bobby again. It seemed that warning was well justified in light of what had happened to Raines and Lyle.

And still, Sydney couldn't help himself. He'd bided his time for approximately eighteen months before finally giving in to his insatiable curiosity, and moving to New York City. He'd found a small, nondescript apartment, and had set about tracking his former charge's movements. It wasn't an easy task by any means, given how wide-spread Bobby's job as a detective seemed to go, but he discovered quickly enough that certain activities could generally be relied upon.

He'd found that if he sat on a bench at a bus stop each morning at approximately eight o'clock, an average of four or five days out of seven he could observe Bobby arriving at One Police Plaza. At least half of those times, he could be seen carrying coffee and some form of pastries into the building. More than half of those times, he arrived with his partner at his side, and that was something interested Sydney greatly.

To the uninterested observer, and perhaps even to some moderately interested observers, Bobby Goren and Alex Eames appeared to be just your typical cop partners. Sydney, however, keenly noted the way that their hands brushed as they walked together; or the way that Bobby's hand lingered slightly longer than necessary at her back as he ushered her through the doors into One Police Plaza. More than once, he'd observed them standing outside the complex of an evening, and then he would be likely to witness a stray touch to her hair, or a less than innocent look from her to him, coupled with a similar returned expression. Sydney was a master at reading body language, and Bobby Goren and Alex Eames were shouting out for all to see that there was far more to them than just an ordinary police partnership. They were, for all intents and purposes, a romantic couple.

Sydney couldn't help but smile to himself. He doubted that their relationship was permissible, at least as far as them remaining work partners went. They were subtle enough about it, though, that they were probably able to fly under the radar and go mostly unnoticed. He supposed that as long as their... what did they call it? As long as their solve rate didn't suffer, no one probably cared.

So Sydney had continued to observe Bobby and, by default, his feisty partner, for the better part of four months, now. He considered it quite an achievement that he had managed to do so, and stay undetected by Bobby. He had no doubt that had Bobby discovered his presence, he wouldn't have hesitated to initiate a confrontation. Both Jarod's warning and Miss Parker's slightly smug words of advice told him he needed to take seriously the threat that Bobby would quite likely visit some serious harm on him if they came face to face again.

Yes, Sydney took that very seriously, and yet he still couldn't help himself. He needed to see Bobby face to face, and talk to the other man. He wanted to understand the experiences Bobby had had since his release from the Centre. He wanted to talk to Bobby and get an idea of the methods that Bobby had employed to cope with the after-effects of his time in the Centre. He wanted to know, he needed to know, and he was certain that if Bobby would just give him a single chance to explain, that he'd understand and be willing to cooperate.

He was a fool. Sydney knew that. Deep down, he knew he would never find forgiveness with Bobby, and even deeper down he knew he didn't deserve any such forgiveness. It wasn't going to stop him from trying, though, and damn the consequences.

"I know that look," a familiar voice said, startling Sydney out of his reminisce. "It's the look that you always get when you're about to do something phenomenally stupid."

He looked up with confusion that quickly morphed into irritation.

"Parker. What are you doing here?"

Miss Parker seated herself without waiting for an invitation.

"Apparently, I'm here to stop you from doing whatever it is that you're thinking of doing. And I'm guessing it probably involved Bobby Goren. Would I be right?"

"It's lovely to see you, Parker," Sydney said flatly, in as unfriendly a tone as she had ever heard from him. "Now, please leave. I don't need you to babysit me."

"I'm not here to babysit you," she said bluntly. "I've been sent to bring you back. You've been recalled to the Centre, Sydney. It's time to go."

He blanched visibly at the order.

"I'm not going."

"You don't honestly think you have a choice, do you?"

Frustration filled Sydney's face.

"I have things to do here, Parker. I can't leave. Not when I'm this close."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"This close to what?"

In a gesture that she strongly suspected was involuntary on his part, his gaze flickered to the street outside just briefly before he discreetly lowered his head under the pretence of looking at a menu. Frowning, she followed his gaze and realisation dawned a moment later she cursed softly as she spotted Bobby Goren walking past with Alex Eames, the two of them hand in hand. Fortunately, the two kept walking and neither of them so much as glanced in at the coffee shop. Miss Parker took just a moment to note with interest the obvious relationship between the two before pushing that information to the back of her mind and rounding on Sydney angrily.

"You stupid fool. Jarod warned you, and I warned you. If Bobby finds out you're stalking him, what do you think he's going to do? What do you think his partner will do? Damn it, Sydney…"

"I have a right to see him, Parker!" he burst out. "He is my responsibility, and I have every right to be here!"

Parker stared at him incredulously before leaning across and speaking in a low voice that was edged with menace.

"You listen to me, and you listen well. You have no rights where Bobby Goren is concerned. You lost any right to have anything to do with any part of his life when you let him drown."

"That was an accident," Sydney muttered sourly.

"No, it was negligence," Parker snarled. "In the end, you were no better than Raines as far as Bobby was concerned, and if you don't take seriously the warning he gave, then you deserve everything you get."

The two colleagues stared at each other, neither one so much as blinking. Finally, unsurprisingly, Sydney looked away first.

"That's what I thought," Parker said icily. "Get a clue, Sydney. Bobby doesn't want to see you. Not now, and probably not ever. If you can't understand or respect that, after everything you did to him, then there is something seriously wrong with you. Now, get off your ass, get your bags packed and get back to Blue Cove before Daddy decides to send a sweeper crew after you."

Sydney looked out the window again, but Bobby was gone.

"Damn," Sydney hissed. Finally, he looked back at Miss Parker in frustration. "What do they want? Not Jarod again, surely?"

"No, not Jarod and not Bobby," Miss Parker answered. "Sydney, the Triumvirate wants to start a new Pretender program."

Sydney stilled very suddenly, staring at her with a look in his eyes that she couldn't read.

"They want to start from scratch? That will take years! And what about the children?"

"Daddy mentioned orphanages, but I got the impression that it wouldn't stop there."

Sydney sat back with a thud. Part of him wanted to embrace the opportunity with open arms, and ignore all the failures of the past. This could be a chance for a new beginning, and grand new successes. Except… He couldn't push Bobby's accusing stare out of his head. From the moment Bobby had woken up back inside the Centre, right up until that moment when he'd had to tell Bobby that Raines had been given full control over him, he'd done nothing but betray Bobby time and time again. He knew, right then and there, that he could not do that to another child. What conscience he still had would not allow it.

"I can't go back," he said again, this time for a different reason.

"Do you really think you have a choice?" Miss Parker asked. Sydney glowered at her, his irritation back with a vengeance.

"What do you want, Parker? Are you here to take me back? Or is there another reason you bothered to come all the way to New York, rather than just sending me a text message?"

She stared at him with that piercing gaze that seemed to penetrate right through him. It was a gaze that had made many a man tremble where they stood.

"I want to stop it, before they ruin another child's life. Orphan, not an orphan, it doesn't matter. The Pretender program should have ended with Jarod, but then they went that step too far and took Bobby. Now they want to start the whole goddamned cycle all over again. Enough is enough, Sydney. It has to end. We have to end it before it starts again, Sydney."

"And you think we can achieve this?" Sydney asked. He didn't want to come across as sounding amused, but he couldn't help himself. The idea that two people whose lives were bound intrinsically with the nightmare that was the Centre could put a stop to a Triumvirate directive was, at the very least, laughable.

"We can't," Parker conceded, "but Jarod could."

Sydney let his breath out in a huff.

"I haven't had any contact with Jarod for nearly two years, Parker. He's ignored every attempt I've made to reach out to him. I have no idea where he is."

Parker let out a soft huff, a small sound that fully embodied her disdain.

"You know it's your own fault. As much as I hate to say it, though, I haven't heard from him, either. He's disappeared completely off the radar, and I really thought that if anything was going to draw him out, it would have been the rebuilding of the Centre in Blue Cove. But he doesn't know about it; _does_ know but doesn't care; or he has been around and he's been so careful that no one has noticed."

"He's certainly capable of the latter," Sydney mused, "and I find it hard to accept that he could know about it, but not care. We have to assume the demolition of the old building was as much his idea as anyone's, so I think we need to work on the assumption that he either isn't aware that it's been rebuilt, or that he does and he's been extremely cautious not to set off any alarms."

"It doesn't really matter which one it is," Parker said in a bored voice. "The fact is that we don't know where he is, and any messages you've sent either haven't reached him or he's ignored them. So that leaves open the question, how do we get in contact with him?"

She knew what he was going to say before he said it. Indeed, she'd anticipated it.

"We need to talk to Bobby," Sydney said, and the sudden gleam in his eyes turned her stomach. She'd known well enough that having to raise this matter with him would inevitably result in him using it as an excuse to contact Bobby.

"No," she corrected. "I need to talk to Bobby. You need to stay well away from him."

"Parker..."

She laughed, although there was precious little humour in the sound. She knew she shouldn't have felt incredulous at his stubborn determination, and yet she was.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" she said, staring at him as though she'd never really seen him before. "All the warnings, and after what happened to Raines and Lyle, and you still think you can get away with confronting him? Don't you get it, Sydney? He might _kill_ you! And if he doesn't, it's a fair bet that his partner will. Now, as much of a pain in the ass as you are, I don't particularly want to see you killed. So for your own sake, and my sanity, let me deal with this. Let me talk to him."

Sydney looked back out the cafe window with an inscrutable expression on his face.

"I don't want to hurt him, Parker. I never wanted to hurt him."

Parker's expression softened, and for a brief moment she looked as much like her mother as ever.

"But you did, Sydney," she countered softly. "We all did, but you? He trusted you to protect him, and you didn't. Maybe one day he'll find it in him to forgive you, but he's never going to forget that you betrayed his trust."

"What do you expect me to do, Parker?" he growled in frustration.

"I expect you to get your ass back to the Centre, and do what you can to find out about the plans for the new Pretender program, so that we can pass the information on to Jarod when he surfaces. You need to be on the inside, Sydney and besides, you want redemption? This would be a good start."

"And what are you going to do?" he asked. There was a bitter, resigned tone to his voice, and Parker felt a strong sense of relief that she seemed to have finally gotten through to him.

"I'm going to wait for the right moment to contact Bobby, because I think he might be our only chance of reaching Jarod. If it's Bobby who contacts him, he'll accept that we're not just trying to trap him again. At least, I hope he will."

"All right," Sydney conceded finally. "All right, Parker, you win. I'll go back. I just have some business to wrap up here in the city before I do."

Parker's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What business?"

He saw the look on her face, and a wry smile touched his lips.

"Relax, would you? I've been working as an art dealer. How do you think I've been making a living? It's not as though the Centre has been especially forthcoming with a liveable wage. I had to survive somehow."

"Of course you did," she retorted. "Fine. Wrap it up, and get back there as soon as you can. I'll be in contact with you once I've talked to Bobby." She stood up to leave, and then hesitated. "Don't get any ideas about trying to contact him before you go, Sydney. Trust me when I say it would not be a good idea."

He smiled benignly at her.

"Have I ever lied to you, Parker?"

"No, but you've never been completely honest with me, either," she said. "Just do as I ask, please. I was happy to bury Raines and Lyle. I don't want to have to bury you."

* * *

_to be continued..._


	8. Anticipation

A/N: _Sorry for the length of time since my last post - RL hit kind of hard, and it's been difficult getting my head into the 'write space' again..._

* * *

Despite the bone-deep weariness he felt, and the intense desire to get drunk and go to bed for the next several days, at least, Bobby never failed to enjoy and appreciate any time spent with Alex's parents. Whilst not going quite so far as to consider them surrogates parents, they were nonetheless like family to him. This was the selfless couple who, on his return to New York after two months spent recovering in the care of Jarod's own family, had taken him in and treated him like their own son. They'd cared for and protected him, and it was something he would never forget and always be grateful for.

Now, in the immediate wake of his own mother's death, Bobby felt a deep gratitude once more for their complete acceptance of him, and of his presence in their lives. As with Alex, Bobby didn't even want to contemplate what he would have done without them.

He found his mind wandering as he helped John Eames with the post-dinner dishes, and it wasn't until John flicked him lightly with the tea towel that he snapped out of his reverie.

"Thinking about your mom?" John asked gently, with great sympathy. Bobby smiled wearily.

"A little, but I was also thinking about how lucky I am to have you and Helen in my life as well."

John smiled as he returned his attention to the dishes waiting to be dried.

"The same goes for us as well, Bobby, and I can't begin to say how glad I am to see you doing a bit better. I know this has been a hard year for you."

Bobby sighed softly.

"Yeah... But it's partly my own fault. With Captain Ross, for starters... I should have known he'd have preconceived ideas about me. It was kind of stupid of me not to expect that, and yet it still threw me when he arrived, and I realised he was already more than half way to making his mind up about me. He's a good man, though, and a good cop. I guess I just wasn't willing to give him enough of a chance. I... I'm going to try and do better when I go back to work."

"That's a good resolve to have," John agreed. "What about the rest of it, though? I mean, you managed to keep your head on straight when Lexie was kidnapped, and I know damn well that that would have been no easy feat for you. And then you were held at gunpoint... Mike got into that brawl with the FDNY and managed to get himself threatened by the mob... and then there was the business with Mark Ford Brady. None of you have had a stellar year, have you?"

Bobby grimaced.

"It's been difficult," he conceded, and John uttered a short laugh.

"Difficult. Bobby, you are a master of the understatement. I'd say it's been more than difficult. More like damned near impossible. The point, though, is that you've come through it intact."

Bobby nodded, smiling a little in acknowledgement of that not so minor achievement.

"Yeah. We have."

John chuckled at the satisfaction in Bobby's voice before glancing at the closed door that led back through to the family room.

"You do realise Helen is probably quizzing Alex about when we can expect to hear wedding bells, and all that soppy rubbish."

"Not yet, sorry," Bobby apologised. "We already talked this out. Neither one of us is ready yet to dissolve our partnership, and if we get engaged, then there is no way the NYPD will let us stay as partners. I doubt we'd even be allowed to stay in the same squad."

"Ross doesn't know, does he?" John mused. "He doesn't know that the two of you are together."

"No," Bobby confessed. "We've worked hard to keep it under wraps. Deakins never cared because he was there with us when our relationship… evolved, and he knew it would only hurt our solve rate if he split us up. Ross doesn't understand that, and right now I don't think he'd have any problems splitting us up."

"Even after the talk that Alex, Mike and Jim had with him and Mike's partner today?" John wondered. When Bobby shot him an inscrutable look, John grinned crookedly. "What can I say? I'm a nosy bastard. Answer the question."

Strangely, Bobby felt no resentment in taking an order from John. He'd wondered at that many a time, when John had told him to do something because, more often than he would like now, he found himself battling a swell of anger whenever someone ordered him to do something – even if that something was perfectly reasonable. It was a deep-set response to the many cruel orders he'd had to take from Raines, Lyle or Sydney during his time in the Centre, when defiance had meant a beating, or worse. In the end, his anger was all he'd had, and he had clung to it ferociously. Unfortunately, he'd clung to it for so long as a lifeline that it had become almost impossible to let go of.

George Huang was helping him to work through it, but it was a slow and painful process, and in the meantime he had to be hyper-vigilant that his temper didn't get the better of him. With John Eames, though, it just didn't seem to bother him, and he wished he knew why.

"I won't really know how Ross decides to take it until I go back to work. Alex said he didn't dismiss it outright, so I guess that's a positive, at least."

"I've heard he's a fairly open-minded guy," John said. "And anyway, if he doesn't believe it, you have other options."

"They showed him and Wheeler and sim disc," Bobby said suddenly in a subdued voice. "I don't know which one. Alex wouldn't tell me."

"Ah," John murmured. "Right. I guess they felt he needed a little extra convincing. Well, that's not such a bad thing, Bobby."

"Maybe not. I just didn't want to have to worry about going back to work, and not knowing whether Ross will look at me like I'm some sort of… of freak!"

John snorted.

"You say he thinks that of you already, so why worry yourself about it?"

If Bobby had been eating or drinking right then, he felt sure that he would have choked. As it was, his eyes watered and he coughed hard in reaction to the blunt statement. When he finally managed to clear his vision, it was to find John watching him with an unapologetic gaze.

"Seriously, Bobby," John said, "you believe that Ross already sees you in that way, so why tear yourself up worrying about how he's going to look at you after hearing the full story, and seeing a sim disk? If you already expect the worst, you're not going to be disappointed, are you?"

Bobby frowned. John's words seemed harsh, but there was something there beyond the bluntness. He knew John was pushing him; he just wasn't sure what conclusion he was meant to reach. What he did know was that he'd spent too long being negative, and he was tired of it.

"I don't want to expect the worst," he said finally. "Alex said Ross didn't just dismiss it all... and I know he's a decent person. I have to believe he'll give me the benefit of the doubt, and not just decide I'm a... a lost cause."

"Ah, Bobby," John said with a sigh and a shake of his head. "One thing you will never be is a lost cause."

"Thank you," Bobby said with a wry smile. "Now I just need to convince Captain Ross of that."

* * *

"Your dad thinks your mom wants us to get married," Bobby said carefully as they lay in bed later that night, spooned together comfortably. Though he tried to make it sound like a casual observation, in truth he was trying to gauge her reaction and, subsequently, whether it was something she herself wanted.

Though he would have been reluctant to admit it, The innocuous statement from John had triggered upon unexpected desire deep within Bobby. Slowly, he was coming to realize that he wanted all the things that John and Helen Eames had. A loving partnership, a good home... All the things he felt he'd missed out on, until now. He wanted those things, and he wanted them with Alex Eames. He just didn't know if he was quite ready to sacrifice their working partnership in exchange.

"Hey, Earth to Bobby," Alex said teasingly. He came back to the present, blinking at her in confusion.

"Sorry...?"

She laughed softly.

"It's okay. You asked me a question, and then went all spacey on me. Do you really want to know what I think of my mom's fairly obvious attempts to get me into a wedding dress?"

Bobby felt his heart sink a little at her tone but he maintained a stoic facade and watched her with anticipation. Smiling, she rolled over to face him, leaned in close and kissed him softly.

"I'm all for it, but in our time. Not hers. I love you, and I have no intention of rushing this."

And just like that, his heart lifted, and the weight of tension and worry vanished from his shoulders. He hugged her close, kissing her lingeringly before speaking.

"I don't want to rush it, either. I love you too, and I want this to last as long as possible. What did I do to deserve you, Alex?"

"That sentiment goes both ways, Bobby." She sighed as she settled in his embrace. "Maybe the answer is right here. Maybe it's that we deserve each other. And you know something? I can live with that."

Bobby smiled in the dark as he felt Alex give in to sleep beside him.

"So can I," he whispered contentedly.

* * *

_Late Monday night._

Bobby awoke in a cold sweat, the beginning of a scream on his lips as he was jolted unpleasantly back into awareness. For long, terrifying seconds, he couldn't remember where he was, and his treacherous mind played cruel tricks, deceiving him into thinking he was back inside the Centre walls. Then, he became aware of Alex beside him, and he sagged with relief.

It was a regular occurrence for him, to wake up from god-awful nightmares only to believe, however briefly, that he was still trapped in the Centre. Until reality took over, he could still see the sterile off-white walls of the room that had become his only sanctuary from the torments visited on him by Raines, Lyle, Brigitte and Sydney. When he did finally remember where he was, the relief was so great that he didn't know what to do with himself. More often than not, he wept long and hard, both with relief that he was no longer a prisoner and with grief that it continued to torment him so badly.

A few times, Alex had been awoken by him, and a quiet talk had led to less eloquent but still plenty vocal activities. Those times Bobby appreciated more than anything. It wasn't just sex, then. It was balm to his soul, and the love he felt from Alex settled him better than anything else could.

This time, sadly, was not one of those times. Alex slept soundly on the other side of the bed, undisturbed by his nightmare, and Bobby was loathed to wake her. As much as he wanted the physical comfort, he would not willingly disturb her. He eased himself carefully out of the bed, and padded in the dark to the ensuite to splash some water on his face and try and rid himself of the spectre of his dreams.

He knew, of course, what was behind this latest nocturnal onslaught. That evening, Alex had arrived looking troubled, and had been extremely reluctant to talk. Knowing better than to push, he'd prepared dinner for them both and they had passed a pleasant enough hour exchanging fairly meaningless small talk. It wasn't until later on, while they were ensconced on the sofa watching reruns of _Frasier_ that Alex had blurted out the news that had been bothering her all evening.

_"Chief Boucher has ordered everyone in the squad to undergo psychiatric evaluation."_

Bobby had felt himself tense at her words, even though he knew deep within himself that he had nothing to worry about. After all, he was still seeing George Huang on a regular basis, and he knew damn well that Huang would not hesitate to have him taken off active duty if he'd felt it necessary. So, his concern wasn't that he might be found unfit for duty. Rather, it was merely the idea of sitting in a room with a psychiatrist, and having to answer potentially difficult questions that he might not necessarily feel comfortable answering.

In short, the whole idea was bringing his memories of the Centre very much to the forefront of his mind, and he was at a loss to stop it.

Bobby wanted to weep out of sheer frustration. When they'd taken the dramatic action against Raines and Lyle, he'd envisaged an end to the nightmares. His distress upon continuing to suffer from them had been palpable. Over time, he'd come to reluctantly accept that nothing was going to rid him of the nightmares. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but once he'd accepted that fact, strangely enough it made the nightmares a little bit easier to bear.

Every so often, though, something would happen, or someone would say something, and it would trigger the memories all over again, causing them to fill his mind as though they'd happened only yesterday. That was when the worst nightmares happened, when everything was churning freshly through his mind, and he was unable to distance himself from those mental torments.

It was no surprise to him that his nightmares had been primarily about Sydney. Out of everything, Sydney was the figure that represented the most profound of his unresolved issues where the Centre was concerned.

Raines and Lyle were both dead; he'd made his peace, of a sort, with Miss Parker and he'd seen Angelo free of the shackles of the Centre. Miss Parker's father was a non-entity as far as he was concerned; the man never featured in Bobby's nightmares, as far as he could remember. Sydney was the only tormentor who he had yet to face since his dramatic rescue from Blue Cove.

It plagued his mind far more than he would ever willingly admit to anyone, even Alex.

Slender arms slid around his waist, and he sighed instinctively as Alex's warm body pressed in against his back.

"Who was it this time?" she asked in a voice that was still slightly muzzy from sleep. "Raines, Lyle or Sydney?"

Bobby couldn't help but smile ever so faintly. She really did know him so well.

"Sydney," he confessed without hesitation. He'd learned a long time ago that a nightmare shared was a nightmare weakened. Being able to talk through his night terrors was empowering, and went a long way to easing his psychological trauma and stress.

"Mmm," Alex murmured. "Tell me you dreamed about him getting sucked into quicksand?"

Bobby chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that vibrated through the both of them.

"Sadly, no. It was back… in the Centre, I mean. I don't remember what the simulation was… probably not important… Whatever it was had me terrified, though. I begged Sydney to stop it, I used the safe word…"

"Refuge," Alex murmured, and Bobby nodded.

"Yeah. Refuge. He ignored it… he ignored me… Just like when he put me in the focus chamber."

Alex hugged him fiercely. She knew that still tormented him. Not so much the near drowning, though that had been traumatic enough in its own right, but rather the way Sydney had so callously disregarded him. It was something that Bobby simply could not bring himself to forgive or forget.

"Are you worried about tomorrow?" she asked softly. "Because if you are, we can call George first thing in the morning. You know he could put pressure on the brass to let him do your evaluation."

Another sigh escaped Bobby's lips.

"No, it's okay. I can do it. I need to do it."

"You don't have to prove anything to anyone, Bobby."

"Yes, I do. I have something to prove to myself. I need to know I can deal with these little issues. I can't let everything that triggers memories of the Centre bring me to a screaming halt. I'd never function, if I did."

She nodded, knowing that he did not need her to argue with him, only support him.

* * *

_to be continued..._


	9. An Unwelcome Reunion

_A/N: **Well, I found the notebook that went missing. After a lot of procrastination on my part, I decided on a partial re-write, rather than a full re-write of this chapter. The changes aren't significant, so I'm just replacing the chapter content. I haven't removed anything from what I already had written - just added content from the re-discovered notebook.**_

* * *

_Tuesday morning._

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Alex asked as she and Bobby hesitated at the bottom of the steps of One Police Plaza. The look on his face suggested he would have preferred not to answer, but he knew from experience that ignoring her was a bad idea.

"I don't see that I have any choice. It's not as though Ross planned this just to torment me. The Chief of Detectives ordered it for the entire squad. I don't like it, but at least I'm not being singled out."

"No," Alex agreed, "you're not, and you'll be fine as long as you remember that. Now, c'mon. Let's get this over with. Mike's up first, then you and then me. After that, as long as nothing comes up, Ross has given us the okay to go and get a coffee, and regroup."

Bobby felt an irrational stab of guilt.

"That's generous of him."

She looped her arm through his, confident that anyone who took notice would merely assume she was offering reasonable support to her bereaved partner. After all, it was common knowledge now throughout the NYPD that Bobby's mother had died within the past week.

To her relief, he went without protest.

* * *

They arrived in the squad room to find Mike fidgeting at his desk while his amused partner looked on.

"It's a psyche evaluation, Logan," Wheeler said. "Not the Inquisition."

Mike glowered at her unappreciatively. "And how many have you been through, Wheeler?"

"Three," she answered, and he snorted derisively in response.

"I've had to go through at least eight and let me tell you, they don't get any easier."

"Don't be so melodramatic, Mike," Alex said with a grin as she and Bobby approached. "They're not that bad."

He turned his glare on her, but there was noticeably less heat in his expression.

"Easy for you to say, Alex. You don't have the record that I do."

"And whose fault is that?" she shot back. Mike did scowl, then.

"You're not helping."

"Leave him alone," Bobby interrupted, with a hint in his tone that suggested the time had come to ease off. Both Alex and Wheeler took the hint and backed off just as Ross walked over.

"Logan? What are you waiting for? The doctor is ready for you. Goren, could I see you in my office, please? Eames, you're welcome to join us."

Sparing Mike an apologetic look, Bobby and Alex followed the captain to his office.

"First of all," Ross said as he indicated for them to sit, "I wanted to give you my condolences again for the loss of your mother. I know how hard it is to lose a parent, and I'm sorry."

Bobby inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

"Secondly, I want to apologise for this. If it had been up to me, you wouldn't have had to deal with this at least until you were ready to come back to work."

Again, Bobby found himself feeling appreciative; not only for what Ross was saying, but also for the fact that he was willingly holding eye contact. That, more than anything else, told Bobby that Ross was less affected by what he'd learnt than Bobby had feared, and for that reason Bobby found himself prepared to answer questions.

"I suppose you must have questions about what you were told... and shown... the other day," he said. Ross answered honestly.

"Yes, I do, but they can wait. I will say this much, though. I believe you, Detective. I did some digging over the weekend, and I found old internal surveillance footage from the previous Chief of Detectives' office. If I'm not mistaken, that footage was of your abduction. Am I right?"

Bobby let out a shuddering breath. There was a memory he'd rather stayed buried.

"Yes, sir," he answered simply. He didn't bother to elaborate and Ross never asked him to.

"Then we don't need to say anything more about it until you're ready," Ross said firmly. "Now, as far as this evaluation is concerned, I don't care what the doctor reports. I'll be basing any decisions I make on the status reports I've been getting as a matter of course from Dr Huang. So please, don't feel that you need to be hyper-vigilant about what you say in there. I promise you that it will not be going any further."

Bobby nodded in acknowledgement, more grateful than he knew how to express. Before he even had a chance to try, though, there was an explosion of noise from out in the bullpen, and Ben Davage stuck his head into the office.

"Captain, you'd better get out here. I think Logan's about the kill the evaluation shrink."

Ross shot out of the office, with Bobby and Alex close behind. The sight that met them brought all three to a grinding halt.

The door of the task room where the shrink was meant to be conducting his interviews was almost off its hinges, and there were chairs on their sides, as though they'd been thrown out of the way. In the middle of the bullpen, Logan stood with his gun drawn and aimed directly at the hapless doctor.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded to know. Before anyone else had a chance to reply, though, Bobby uttered a strangled noise and spoke a single word in a harsh whisper.

"Sydney."

Within a matter of seconds, all bar a couple of the detectives in the squad room had their weapons out and aimed at the doctor.

Beyond the unpleasant feeling of his blood pressure rising dramatically, Ross noted two things. Firstly, though Eames had not drawn her weapon, she did have her hand resting on it and was clearly ready to draw it at a moment's notice. Secondly, he couldn't help but notice the way that Goren took the most subtle of steps back and to the side, effectively stepping behind him. That most deliberate movement intrigued Ross, knowing full well that Goren was not an easily intimidated man.

His gaze went finally to the man who was at the centre of the commotion. A few days ago, the name Sydney would have meant nothing to him. Now, he recognised both it and the potential trauma that it held for Goren and, while he couldn't necessarily justify his entire squad threatening to shoot the man, he could understand it.

"So," he said, opting to try and take control of the situation before someone let an itchy trigger finger get the better of them. If nothing else, it would be an absolute bitch to explain to the Chief of Detectives why his squad had collectively decided to open fire on the designated evaluation shrink. "You're Sydney from the Centre."

The psychiatrist didn't appear surprised that Ross knew who he was. In fact, he looked almost amused by the whole situation.

"I see my reputation really does precede me," he remarked. Ross found he didn't especially appreciate the man's humour. He had never seen any squad react like this before, and he had a horrible suspicion that it wasn't the first time that they had responded like that in defence of Goren. He was also fairly confident that that suspicion would never be confirmed by any of them.

"It does," Ross agreed. "I'm not going to bother to ask why you risked coming here, because you obviously understand it was a very big risk."

"You'd be right about that, Captain Ross," Sydney conceded. "However, I felt it was a necessary risk. I need to see and speak with Bobby."

"You've seen him," Alex said in an ice-cold tone of voice, "but you forfeited the right to speak to him a long time ago. Right now, you need to give _us_ a damned good reason why we shouldn't shoot you dead right here and now."

It chilled Ross's blood to hear someone who he had come to see as a very level-headed and pragmatic person issue such a cold-blooded threat to what was essentially an unarmed citizen and that, perhaps more so than anything else, drove home to him the reality of what he'd been told about Bobby's past.

"Easy, Detective," Ross murmured. He took a step forward, feeling increasingly more desperate to defuse the situation before someone walked in and it blew up in all their faces. "Everyone, put your guns down, please."

Slowly, with obvious reluctance, Mike lowered his gun and the rest of the squad gradually followed his lead. Ross nodded in visible relief.

"Thank you." His attention went back to Sydney, who looked equally relieved not to be the focus of at least a dozen loaded weapons any longer. "Now, whether you get to speak to Detective Goren is entirely up to him and somehow I doubt he's going to agree. As for the pretence that you've come here under, consider your services terminated. You're to leave immediately, and I don't ever want to see your face in or near One Police Plaza again. In fact, I think you'd be wise to consider leaving New York altogether."

Sydney looked past Ross to Bobby. The other man's face was fixed in a deliberately neutral expression, giving away very little except to the most perceptive of how agitated he really was.

"I just want to talk to you," he offered. "Nothing more, nothing less. Please, Bobby."

Much to his private aggravation, Bobby found that a part of him did want to know. Was it really just that Sydney's curiosity had finally gotten the better of him, or was there something deeper to it? As always, though, Sydney had a true poker face and Bobby simply couldn't work out what was going on behind that deceptively placid facade.

"I have nothing to talk to you about," Bobby answered finally, and his voice immediately gave away all the nerves and fear that he was experiencing right then. "Whatever you have to say, I don't want to hear it."

"I only want to talk," Sydney insisted, keeping his tone gentle. "No tricks, I promise. Just you and I, Bobby. Please."

He took a step forward, towards Bobby, only to be brought up short when Mike suddenly placed himself squarely in Sydney's line of sight.

"You heard him. He doesn't want to hear it. You have one option, pal. The lift is _that_ way. I suggest you use it."

"I assure you, Detective, I mean no harm to Bobby. I only wish to speak with him. I swear it."

Alex glared at Sydney with sheer hatred in her eyes, with her hand still lingering on her holstered weapon.

"We don't trust you, and neither does Bobby."

Disappointment flickered across Sydney's face, mixed with annoyance and understanding.

"I suppose I can understand that," he conceded, ignoring the derisive snort from Mike. "However, Jarod..."

"Is not me," Bobby interrupted coldly. "You had me for a total of six years, Sydney. You had Jarod for most of his life. Don't make the mistake of thinking that I share his Stockholm Syndrome. I don't, and you destroyed any remnants of trust that I still had in you the day that you locked me in the focus chamber and let me drown."

A murmur swept through the room at the revelation. Most of the detectives present knew Bobby had gone through hell, but no one knew any specifics. This open admission was the first real glimpse any of them had gotten into Bobby's ordeal.

"From the sounds of it," Ross said in a low, terse voice, "my detective owes you nothing. I don't know how you managed to place yourself to be selected to do this squad's evaluations, but your services are no longer required. Please leave now."

"I get the impression that you aren't merely referring to the building," Sydney said dryly.

"You'd be correct," Ross agreed. "I will be circulating an alert, with a directive to arrest you on sight if you're still in New York after today.

"Very well," he conceded, sounding deceptively pleasant in his acceptance. He returned his piercing gaze to Bobby. "I'm sorry that you won't give me the opportunity to speak to you, but I can understand that you're not quite ready yet. I hope one day, you'll be willing to put aside your issues and be prepared to give me another chance."

"Don't you dare," Bobby snarled, anger lighting up his face. "Don't you dare put it on me. After everything you did, everything you were responsible for, you have no right to make out like I'm disrespecting you."

"Bobby..."

"No! You knew I never wanted to see you again. Jarod told you, and I'm sure Miss Parker told you as well. This was never going to be like it was with you and Jarod. I told you, I do _not_ have any degree of Stockholm Syndrome. I have no emotional connection to you at all. You didn't save me from anything when I was a child, and you sure as hell did nothing to help me as an adult. I don't want to see you, I do not want to talk to you, and I want you to get the hell out of here right now, and never show your face again."

Ross raised an eyebrow at Sydney.

"I think that was pretty definitive, Doctor."

Sydney let out a tiny huff of air in obvious frustration.

"Very well. I'll leave. I am disappointed, Bobby, but I suppose I can understand." He turned and headed towards the exit, before pausing to look back at his former charge with a piercing gaze. "I just thought you should be aware that the Triumvirate has decided to start a new Pretender program."

With that, Sydney turned and walked out of the squad room without another glance back.

Silence reigned in the wake of his departure as all eyes found their way to Bobby. The detective stood frozen to the spot, his already pale complexion turning a worrying shade of grey.

"Bobby?" Alex asked softly. "You know he's just trying to provoke you, right?"

"C'mon, pal," Mike tried to encourage him. "Go sit down, and I'll get you a good, strong cup of coffee."

For several seconds, Bobby never moved or spoke. Then, from around the corner, the distinct 'ding' of the elevator reached their ears. All of a sudden, Bobby broke his paralysis and took off out of the squad room, oblivious to the sound of his partner, his best friend and his captain all calling after him. He reached the lift just as the doors were sliding closed, and threw his arm out to give him time to slip in before they closed fully.

"I see that managed to get your attention," Sydney remarked casually, though the hint of a smirk on his face suggested he was quite pleased with himself. Bobby glared at him.

"Yes, and don't think I'm happy about it. You wanted my attention, and now you've got it. Start talking, Sydney. You've got until we reach the ground floor to say something that will make me willing to hear you out properly."

"I can't tell you much," Sydney admitted. "I only found out a few days ago. Miss Parker came to tell me that the Centre is planning to restart the Pretender program. We are both in agreement, though, that it needs to be stopped. It cannot be allowed to happen. Not again."

Bobby's breath caught.

"Are you serious? You want to stop it?"

"Yes, Bobby. I'm very serious. Neither Miss Parker nor myself want the Pretender program to start again. The risk of abuse is simply too high, and I can't justify it."

The bitterness in Bobby's face was palpable.

"Pity you didn't have that attitude when I was in the Centre... either when I was a kid or two years ago."

"Bobby, do you really think it would have mattered what I thought?"

"As far as my freedom went, and as far as Raines went? No, I suppose not, but you could have made life a hell of a lot easier for me than it was."

Sydney's shoulders slumped, and Bobby was gratified to see a hint of guilt in the older man's face.

"I know, and I am sorry for that."

"Are you really?"

Sydney sighed.

"I've made a lot of mistakes over the years. One of the biggest was allowing myself to be seduced by the Centre. For far too long, I convinced myself that everything the Centre did was for the greater good."

"That's one hell of a delusion to hold on to," Bobby said scathingly. "Especially around someone like Raines."

"Yes, it was," Sydney agreed ruefully.

"And what about now?"

"I believe the Centre could still do a lot of good, if it were taken out of the hands of the Triumvirate," Sydney mused. "Of course, that would be impossible."

Bobby shut his eyes. As much as he hated it, he knew he needed to know more. If the Centre really was intending to start the Pretender program again, he needed to know if he was going to be at risk again. He doubted Sydney would be completely honest with him about that inside an elevator within One Police Plaza.

"All right, Sydney. You've got your chance. But I'm not going anywhere with you on my own. Alex and Mike will be coming with us."

"Very well," Sydney conceded. "You'd better call them..."

"No need," Bobby said dismissively. "They'll be waiting on the ground floor when the doors open."

Sydney looked mildly sceptical at that, and his surprise was palpable when the doors slid open to reveal the two Irish detectives, just as Bobby had predicted. Neither one looked even remotely amused.

"Well?" Alex asked coldly.

Bobby inwardly cringed. He knew by her tone that they would be having an uncomfortable conversation that night about him behaving recklessly, and he supposed he could see her point. After all, if the Centre had been able to abduct him from with the Chief of Detective's office, then an elevator shaft probably wouldn't have presented that much of an issue for them, either.

He barely suppressed a shudder. _That_ pleasant little thought was going to give him nightmares.

"I've agreed to hear Sydney out. We're going to a coffee shop."

Mike nodded. He didn't question whether or not he and Alex were invited to accompany them. He simply took it as a given that they were going along.

"I know a place just around the corner. It's quiet, but there should still be plenty of people around. Plus, I know the owner."

Bobby nodded.

"Sounds perfect. Let's go."

* * *

_to be continued..._


End file.
